Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3

We’ve reached that point in rehearsals. Scenes are being strung together into acts which will eventually be strung together as a play. We’re two weeks away from technical rehearsals and the story we’re telling with our staging of James Graham’s play Ink is coming into shape nicely. We’re still in the rehearsal room for another week and by the time we leave it, the actors will be telling a tight story.

And then we’ll tear it all apart in technical rehearsals. Those technical elements of our story-telling are coming more into focus in the little theatre in my mind as I watch the actors put chunks of the show together. But they have to get out of my mind, into the designers’ and then onto the stage. Clear communication and direction is the key.

Lighting, music, and in this show a voluminous series of projections that will play on multiple screens on the stage offer a full menu. It’s one thing to visualize them as pieces of the puzzle in the little theatre in my mind and discussions around the production table.  it’s another to begin charting them out as assets for discussions with the designers so they can go and build those assets.

Over the years my toolkit is always evolving and changing as technology advances, always offering new options (and the opportunites to play with new toys.) For my prep work to flow on this show I am using several screens to keep track of spreadsheets, notes and of course the script as I chart out the assets cue to cue.

Back in my digs the M2 Macbook Air is the anchor. Hanging off it is an ESR Portable Kickstand Monitor. Sitting adjacent is an 11 inch iPad Pro with the script, sometimes connected via Universal Control depending on the work I’m doing.

When it’s time for rehearsal the iPad Pro becomes the anchor and travels with, bringing it all back home for the next prep session. For someone who loves both the making of live theatre and playing with gadgets it’s a dream world.

Achievement unlocked. (Well almost.)

Last night we completed blocking Act 2. So the show is “in the books.” I could get hit by a bus and someone could step in and take the show home at this point. Blocking is painting with a broad brush and it reveals the picture slowly coming into focus. The staging of some scenes won’t change a wit from this point. Others will morph and grow and end up looking totally different as the characters grow and we flesh out the details. The moments begin to breathe and the story fills out.

It’s a good marker of our progress and I’m feeling comfortable with how we’re telling the story picture by picture.

It’s also the point where I start questioning the choices I’ve planned. You know when the story works or you’re working against the story. Or when new discoveries yield new paths.

Ok. Some of that above is a lie. I had one of those  “Oh Shit” moments last night that leads me to a hunch that we’re on to something new and unplanned to get into the last scene. The play talked back to me as we neared the last scene. I was about to stage the transition into the final scene and I felt that tingle. That tingle that opens a new door and tells me that I had arrived at a different path to the conclusion. I didn’t and don’t want to articulate the new thoughts just yet.  But they feel right. They feel dangerous. When we come back around to the moment in work sessions I’ll know because I won’t be able to do anything but follow that tingle in my gut and step through the door.

Unusual circumstances took us there. One of our actors was out due to local flooding from some heavy rains in the area and her understudy was standing in for her. (Doing a great job by the way.) The understudy has her own minor ensemble role in the finale of the show and as the clock was ticking down to the end of the rehearsal I had forgotten to take care of her assigned role in setting up the transition. When I realized my mistake I was about to go back and correct it, but then saw this new door open and I stopped. Cold.

We’d previously staged the last scene so all that was left to do was stage the transition itself. I cheated. Talked through the transition as planned and then ended rehearsal for the night vibrating with the energy of this new discovery. I’m both excited for this new approach and terrfiied of it. That tension won’t leave until I stage the moment.

Waking up ths morning the new door is still open and I’m having difficulty writing this post and talking about it. Guess it’s time to step through the door.

Oh shit.

It’s a week on the calendar. But it’s actually only six days of rehearsal. It was six days of rehearsal that saw us accomplish a lot, especially since we were on our feet for only four of them. We’ve got Act 1 blocked and “in the book.” We’ve learned a lot about each other and it feels like we’re starting to work as a team. I can feel the ensemble starting to build its identity. But it wasn’t a week without challenges.

At this stage of rehearsal you’re always in a rehearsal room of some sort. And POTS has a good one. It’s not an exact footprint match of the stage. Rehearsal rooms rarely ever are. But we’re all used to that. That’s why we call the first rehearsals on stage “spacing rehearsals.” We got to take a look at the scenery being installed on stage and that was informative.

Given the nature of one of the major scenic locations in this play our original plan required a lot of furniture-desks, chairs, and other stuff you’d find in a newspaper office. It was a solid plan. Until I realized that we just didn’t have enough room to adequately rehearse those scenes and the transitions in and out of them in the rehearsal space.

So I changed the plan. On the fly.

I love those in the moment moments: following the plan, feeling something’s wrong, and knowing you have to make a change. Your senses tingle back and forth between panic and possibility. You don’t know what the change will be. But you dive in, articulate the idea and hope you’re on the right course.  Sometimes the new idea flies. Sometimes it crashes.

I’ve learned through the years that when I hit one of these moments I find myself literally not being able to initially articulate the idea clearly and cleanly at first. Because it is literally forming as the words tumble out. The cast has that “what the hell” look in their eyes as they’re trying to follow what I’m saying. And then we put it into motion. This time it flew.

The new plan required some re-thinking after that rehearsal to make sure I hadn’t changed us into a trap later on in the show. I’m confident we’re in good shape. But hell, I was confident in the original plan. This new plan feels much better than the original, both in how it’s going to allow us to rehearse in the next two weeks before we load into the theatre and how it’s going to make the flow of the show much more successful.  And dare I say-fun.

Everyone has the day off today after a fun, hard week of work and then tomorrow we turn the page into Act 2. Can’t wait.

Our play began to take life last night. We had our first read with the cast. It was exciting and in the end ultimately a great beginning. It might have taken three years from the point that I got this gig to get to this point but all of that time evaporated last night as we heard the cast breathe life into James Graham’s words. Iit was an excellent beginning. 

The cast was surprised at how much humor flows through the show and brimming with questions about their characters, our process and next steps. 

Next steps. Yeah, we’re off and running and the clock is now officially ticking. More table work tonight and then tomorrow we get on our feet. Here we go.