Salvation Holdout Central [entries|friends|calendar]
...!

[ website | Last.FM page! ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

(save a horse)

And... scene. [23 Mar 2008|11:19pm]
So it's done.

I guess that was my big deal for TRU theatre, and it's done now. People I don't know in lower levels know my name. People came up to me on the street and said good job. I spent a solid two weeks pretty drunk or hungover or in full actress mode. It was fun playing for a while, but now it's done.

I got lost in the dark in the classroom when the lights in the hall were turned out and had no one to call for help. So I wandered around in the dark for ten minutes, looking for the door.

I was too hungover to fend off makeup lights and someone always does a beverage run, so Alicia saw me in full diva mode, inside, with a half-chocolate-half-mint milkshake, wearing giant sunglasses, getting my makeup done. This is something I will never live down.

The best moment was the second Thursday, when everyone I knew was there and, most importantly, the people I knew really well but had never seen me act saw me act and had positive things to say.

Alicia happily used the rest of the mud makeup on closing night, even though it meant adding another five seconds to a very strict quick change.

The campus newspaper gave me a great review - and the play in general a lukewarm one (give me a break, this is something I definitely couldn't bring up with the rest of the cast; I had to talk it down like everyone else).

Bets were taken on whether or not I'd cry. The director found me standing alone in the middle of the theatre during strike watching everything get torn down... and decided to take me to the cast party before I broke. Just because every lead actress breaks doesn't mean I had to. We had a nice long talk at the party and I heard things I needed to hear from him. And then I cried once he left. Frequently.

We got a standing ovation.

(save a horse)

First Run [10 Mar 2008|02:41am]
[ mood | awake ]

Well, the first couple shows seemed to go off all right.

Opening night, I was perpetually on the verge of vomiting, but I managed to soldier through. No line messups, nothing major, big audience filled with familiar faces. Near full house, which meant extra seats on the floor, which meant Act Two Scene One takes place slapping distance from anyone who makes a derisive comment about me in a bathing suit.

Friday and Saturday saw smaller crowds, but the first weekend is usually lame.

The show is, however, getting a very positive response. Not the tech, which is getting a lot of complaints (too dark, too cheesey, too white), but the acting and the costumes and the music. Which makes me happy. John claimed it was one of the better TRU shows he's seen, but that may have been bias/placation. Though, Tiana said the same thing. Either way, I feel pretty good about it. Even the final scene, the removal of the wedding dress and the subsequent hucking of it into the river are starting to feel a little more cathartic and a little less panic-inducing.

The high heeled Payless boots and the slippery downstage floor have created a few issues in rehearsal, but Saturday was the first night I actually bailed. It was, however, on the very last step before Scott sweeps me up in his arms, so no one noticed anything. Since Scott's eyes are shut for that scene, all he noticed was the fact that I slammed into him really hard and the sound the boots made as the floor tore the leather off the outside.

Later on, however, he got his when he stumbled into a chair and it split solidly in half, depositing him on the floor. Luckily, he's supposed to be drunk in that scene anyway.

The music is phenomenal and breaks my heart a bit every night.

Night Walks by Black Mountain underscores the opening scene in the graveyard. Wild Horses by The Sundays plays on the radio when Silo sees the ghost of his dead wife. Wonderwall by Cat Power plays on the radio while Silo is trying to warm up and take care of his frostbitten daughter (me); this is followed up by the Galaxie 500 cover of Isn't It A Pity when I walk out on him. The climactic suicide/child molestation on the highway is set to Bright Lights by Black Mountain. All scenes by the river are set to The Water by Feist. The scenes where I make my giant decision about whether or not to abandon my fake marriage are underscored by Sweet Jane by the Cowboy Junkies and Hold On, Hold On by Neko Case and the final throwing away of the wedding dress is set to I Wish I Had a River by Joni Mitchell.

In other words, a giant lineup of very good covers.

(save a horse)

ruins, relics, disciples and the young [20 Feb 2008|11:50pm]
[ mood | my eyes hurt ]

The strangest thing about Beaver is that my eyes always hurt.

I mean, I spend most of the first act completely in tears, so my eyes tend to be red and prone to crying for several hours after rehearsal ends. I'm worried about giving myself an eye infection or something, but crying is a pretty sterile process. As long as I keep things out of there, I should be pretty clear, right?

Also, yesterday was the first rehearsal in costume. I'm pretty comfortable in the tube top getup, but the bathing suit getup and the lingerie are taking a little getting used to. Mostly the bathing suit, since the lingerie is pretty cute and pretty fleeting. I know that under stage lights and in and out of the dark it'll be a little more flattering than under fluorescents; I also know that when that happens there will be several more people watching, a number that will only increase to well over a hundred on opening night.

Mrrrr.

But you have to keep on going and faking the confidence you don't have.

==================

Anyway. The whole Greg thing seems to blowing over a lot easier than anticipated - I'm chalking that up to it not lasting that long. Oddly enough, having that happen rekindled an actual friendship with John instead of a superficial one. If I wasn't leaving, maybe I'd be able to salvage more than that... As it stands, I guess I'll take what I can get.

He's a good guy and a great friend and it will hurt to lose that. I know he's going to read this, but it's still uncensored thus far.

==================

Someone bring me mint Girl Guide cookies. The old school ones without the chalky filling inside.

(save a horse)

Karma. Fuckin' bitch. [13 Feb 2008|10:59pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

So Greg let me know that he's dating. Her name's Kate. He's sorry. He felt antsy and that this what he needs to do now and that it could still work out when I move there.

Right.

Whether or not I represent an ideal or a dream or something he's wished for since forever is sort of irrelevant, because he's dumped me. It's strange how this makes everything so much harder. I really don't understand how he could tell me that we were meant to be and he'd been thinking about this since a million years ago and it was so right and so perfect and we can't do anything but work... And now it's over.

Completely blindsided.

So that's fine. It didn't really last long enough for me to get irrevocably attached, but it lasted long enough to be a definite sting to my pride. Obviously, he's missed his shot and I can put him in the Steve pile of people who are not worthy of a second chance. I mean, it feels like this round was MY second chance with him since I fucked it up so hard the first go round so many years ago.

For a split second, I wondered if John had like... Paid him off to break up with me. Ah well. Better today then tomorrow, I guess.

If he wasn't shitting me, and I am his ideal and his dream and the best sex ever and all of that other stuff, then he's really, really stupid. I hope I get to witness the look on his face should he ever realise it.

If he was shitting me, and he was just adding me to his oddly long list of girlfriends, then he's a jackass in a long line of jackass boyfriends. Or pseudo boyfriends. Whatever.

(save a horse)

Another casting. [13 Feb 2008|11:09am]
[ mood | anxious ]

I thought theatre students were supposed to be comfortable with homosexuality?Collapse )

Oddly enough, the part that makes me the most uncomfortable is plausibly pulling off an Irish accent.

(2 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

Brr. [07 Feb 2008|02:10am]
[ mood | accomplished ]

I had two things to do today. First, have a photoshoot for the Beaver poster at Riverside Park in costume. Second, rehearsal.

Anya and I drove downtown at sometime after one - I was in a giant coat of unidentified fur, a tiny skirt, tights, a mohair sweater and goofy boots; she was in jeans and a tshirt, camera in tow.

I wandered around some snowy rocks looking appropriately wistful while my teeth chattered since this is Kamloops in February and I wasn't wearing pants. We saw some birds down by the beach and birds are a pretty important symbol in the play, so we went down there. There was a mix of ducks, geese and swans all doing waterfowl things in the snow. Some things to consider:

1:: I've never seen a swan before.
2:: Swans are fucking big.
3:: I am not fucking big.
4:: SWANS ARE FUCKING BIG.

Anya decides I should walk towards the birds so they all flock up nicely and I can look up at them and think about my dead mother and make a nicely composed poster photo that is adequately symbolic and pictorial of the events in the play. So I walk over and the geese and ducks fly up into the sky nicely. The swans, all, say, fifteen of them, just stare back at me. The ones that are sitting down don't even stand up. I make a wide berth around the stupid things, decide never to go near another thing that is as big as me and ALSO HAS THE POWER OF FLIGHT and go walk around on the ice. A picture with the swans swimming placidly (SNEAKILY) in the background is going to end up on the poster.

We returned to the theatre at some point and I settle down in the green room with my laptop to kill the hours until rehearsal. About an hour goes by, and I notice my face is itchy. I walk over to the mirror and, oh wow, I've broken out in fucking HIVES. Well, two hives. I broke out in exactly two hives.

Turns out that the coat of unidentified fur was rabbit. The costume department didn't know, and I helped identify it since, well, I have a contact allergy to rabbit fur. Ironic, hey? Yet another reason to not wear fur, people (however, if you do happen to have a black fur coat that is not rabbit that you wouldn't mind lending to a budding theatre company, hey, let me know 'cause now we need a new coat for my stupid hivey face).

==================

Rehearsal went okay. Our offbook day isn't technically until Monday, but I'm pretty down with my lines, so Wes decided I'm offbook now. On the second rehearsal of the big, dangerous, dirty monologue about losing my virginity in the backseat of a car at the age of twelve. I mean, this monologue has everything traumatic about theatre. I'm wearing a skimpy ass outfit during it; it's about an uncomfortable and controversial subject; it's terribly graphic; I have to sing in the middle; it even has a part where I get to vocally relive an orgasm.

Every time I rehearse this thing in front of people it exhausts me. Thank goodness for the anti-Beaver iTunes playlist.

(save a horse)

Beaver [06 Feb 2008|12:06am]
[ mood | nervous ]

Rehearsals went fine.

We were interping a scene that had been blocked two weeks ago. Meagan and I didn't have to be there for the blocking run since we're only minorly featured, but we came today. Scott had to swing me around and I... didn't know that, so I almost fell on my face when he picked me up.

Beaver is apparently going to be my swansong for TRU theatre. I guess it's sort of a big deal. I dunno. I'm fucking terrified at every rehearsal and am therefore intensely overprepared. At blocking runs I was still gushing emotion to the point of tears, which, admittedly, isn't that difficult for me, but still. Now that we're into interp runs, I'm trying to be way the fuck off book.

Tomorrow they're going to put me in a lake. I don't want to be in a lake.

I left my phone in a cab but they have it so I'm going to get it back. Yay for phones and not being cut off.

(3 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

No point in keeping this private anymore. [05 Feb 2008|02:38am]
[ mood | TIRED OMG ]

But more importantly, I guess I can break down the last few days. I spent them in Van, which is fun, but nerve wracking, since now I have to move there and Vancouver is more than just a wistful vacation spot with great restaurants, it's that place where I have to navigate a home and find a job before I run out of living expenses. It's like fun, only completely the opposite.

Now I don't know where to live, since every place I transit by looks waaaay scarier live than it did on Google Earth. I'm going to get mugged a lot.

Greg is, as always, Greg. I think I told him that he was one of the most amazing people I'd ever met. I did not realise how lame that statement was until the bus was clearing Hope. WTF amazing? That doesn't mean anything. What amazes me about him? Okay, I think to myself, try again in your head before you compliment someone. He is... honest, chivalrous, open. He is the single most genuine person I've met, the least likely to lie to me and the most likely to always be there for me. Everything would be a lot scarier (read: impossible) if I didn't have at least a shadow of a support network on the other side. Of all the people that I've befriended, unfriended, refriended, ignored, rekindled, fucked or otherwise interacted with, Greg probably hasn't been through the most intense, but he's been through every level and has remained unshakably, independently Greg for years and years.

He apparently positively-thought our relationship into being. I don't know how I feel about that. He said he always knew it was going to happen; one day it almost did. A week later, decisions were made, buttons pushed, missiles fired. Now we are officially in an unofficial nonexclusive casual potential pseudo-relationship. I don't know what that means either. Labels are stupid anyway.

Admittedly, the decisions made were made before Greg entered the scene, but the buttons weren't pushed until afterward. Not the best way of doing things and definitely not the kindest. But life rolls on and everyone needs to take a lesson away, here, not just me. I have never been so... Well, not unhappy. I wasn't unhappy. Unfortunately, I also wasn't happy. I could have continued on trucking from one rut to the next until I was dead, but whatever spark I had was waning.

John is better. That's good. He's always been stable, reliable and pragmatic. It's good to have him back there. I'm not sure if friendship will ever happen other than superficially hey-how-are-you-i'm-fine-did-you-change-your-hair-why-yes-i-did sort of thing. That blows, but I know that sanity and breathing space are ultimately going to be a better deal. I would prefer NOT losing him permanently, but if the choice is between no John and arm's length John, I think no John would probably be the least painful. At least I'll be able to remember when I enjoyed being around him.

So ten more days until the next trip down. Someone find me a place to live.

(save a horse)

Une Demi-Tasse des les Belles Soeurs... [02 Mar 2007|11:33pm]
[ mood | meh ]

Yes, I've been neglecting the journal. Sue me. I've been pretty traumatically busy and have apparently forgotten about everything but school and the new play.

Speaking of which, you should come see it should you feel so inclined. We're running tomorrow and Thursday through Saturday.

==================

I've been pretty neutral about the whole play experience this time around. When we get the call that the house is open or that we have ten minutes or even the final call for places, it still doesn't sink into my mind that there are people in the audience. It might be that I don't feel as close to the Les Belles cast as I did to the After the Fall cast. Remember that? When we were having so much fun that we essentially never went home?

I blame Donna for convincing me to audition for a play cast entirely with women. I knew it was a bad idea.

Well, it's not like we aren't having any fun. I still have friends in the cast and crew. Hell, most of them are repeats from After the Fall, anyway.

Tonight, we all got mystery roses. Chelsea walked into the green room with armfuls of individually wrapped and labelled long-stemmed red roses. No one knows where they came from. Anyone going to admit to it?

==================

The runs have been pretty solid thus far. It's a funny play and the leads finally have their lines more or less down. I spilled my Coke all over the stage tonight and tripped over a light bar on Wednesday, but those are pretty minor screwups. We're getting decent audience response from less-than-impressive turnouts. I would love to sell out at least once.

(2 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

Let's face it. [19 Feb 2007|11:51pm]
[ mood | cheerful ]

I wasn't meant for kitchen work.

I'm short. I have tiny hands. I mean, sure, I can multitask like a demon and have an uncanny memory, but I would rather not be back there. With the stinky men. The stinky, stupid men. The ones that eat the scallop water and have sanitizer fights and smoke a pound of pot after snorting a rail of coke each night.

So I applied at East Side Mario's.

And I got it.

(save a horse)

Tonight (and weekends previous). [11 Feb 2007|02:09am]
[ mood | amused ]

Josh calls me up not long after I get home from work and says, Be outside your apartment in a half hour wearing all black.Collapse )

==================

Last night was spent at Fof's, trying to release all my work frustration. It was pretty low-key, but fine all the same. Whenever I meet a new fourth year, I meet them in an incredibly compromising position. Take Alex, who, within two or three hours, was buck on the couch posing with a rose in his teeth and a dog collar around his neck. Lisa, who was taking the pictures, promised that the incrimintating evidence would show up in poster form in the green room eventually.

Disturbingly enough, Laura let me know that she had a similar set of photos from a different event.

==================

Two weekends ago, we did a marathon double nighter at Lindsay's. First night was for shits & giggles. Second night was for Greg, up from Vancouver for the night. Um... I vaguely remember calling every pizza place in town until we found one with an employee we knew willing to discount for us.

Anyway.

I need some sleep.

(1 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

The new show is... [23 Jan 2007|11:43am]
[ mood | chipper ]

Dirty.



...and the estrogen is starting to make my head spin.

(save a horse)

After After the Fall. [22 Jan 2007|01:17am]
[ mood | hungover ]

At Signature Liquor, I found no less than three cast/crew members picking up 'supplies' for the evening. The party had finally found a home with Vivian (Mike). If he survived the night, this most large of cast parties would make him a legend.

Anyway.Collapse )

(save a horse)

Good Night Felice, Good Morning Ginette. [20 Jan 2007|12:54am]
[ mood | bittersweet ]

What Cheryl has been pouring down the throats of the sickies to clear our sinuses:
--boiling water
--ginger root
--lemon
--cayenne pepper
--garlic
--honey

It straddles the weird area between something that tastes good and something that is entirely revolting. Smells sort of like spaghetti sauce. Clears the nasal passages like a bitch, though.



One more performance left. Last night was a sellout show. John isn't going to make it.

(save a horse)

glutton for punishment [18 Jan 2007|02:03am]
[ mood | i dunno ]

So, uh, yesterday was weird.

The auditions for the next production, Les Belles Soeurs, were on Monday night. I didn't go. I wanted to, but I didn't think I could take the workload. Maybe a small part? No, too risky. Whatever. So Monday came and went without any pomp or circumstance. Les Belles Soeurs is a French Canadian play cast with fifteen women. To ease the instance of crazed divaesque catfighting, Cheryl instated an all-male tech crew.

Well, only sixteen women showed up to the audition. For fifteen parts. After the Fall was such a huge ordeal that I guess all the talented girls in the program felt like doing something else.

Yesterday, a few more people auditioned. Because of the small turnout, there was a pretty ridiculous possibility that people who were, um, 'unsuited' for certain roles were going to be cast. So Ashley begged me and Donna poked me and I went in and auditioned just to widen the field.

The audition was for Jim, a man I'd never met. He gave me a script and a half hour or so to prepare. And I went in. All the auditions I've ever done have just been straight reads, either alone or in a pair. Well, sure, Wesley made me sing an audition once, but that was for a farce. I'd heard stories about Jim, but I wasn't prepared for what I found. Jim was a whole other animal.

I read it. I read it to a chair as though it wasn't listening. I abandoned the script and improvised lines. I abandoned words altogether and auditioned the part using just animal noises. When I left that audition chamber of horrors, I was entirely exhausted. I was literally sweating rivers. And I wasn't alone. Brittany had to audition with the animal noises. Jackie and Arlene auditioned as eighty-year old women. Ashley had to chase an imaginary man. I can see the point of asking us to do these things, but that doesn't make them any less weird.

Anyway, I walk into the green room this morning and don't even peek at the cast list. I mean, I auditioned on a lark as a favour for someone else with zero preparation. Well, I was cast.

I think it's just a tiny role, but how the hell would I know? I haven't even read the play. Anya, who was cast in the lead, says that I'm playing her slutty daughter's slutty friend, continuing the trend of my being typecast as a slut or a drunk or both. After the Fall isn't even finished yet and I'm already wrist-deep in something else. That something else being the estrogen festival that will be fifteen actresses trying to continuously out-diva eachother for another two months. Should be fun.

(save a horse)

Half done. [14 Jan 2007|02:19pm]
[ mood | ow ]

I was absolutely dressed to the nines for last night's performance. Josh said I wasn't allowed to talk to him unless I looked human again; honestly, I needed to look nice for myself, for once. I nearly froze my feet off in the heels, but managed to slap on the tightest jeans in existence, jewelry, a white wool trench coat, black gloves and sunglasses. I even flatironed my bangs.

I showed up, of course, and Josh wasn't even there. So I took it all off and started my prep. At some point, Troy got a hold of my camera and ran away with it for the rest of the night. I haven't seen the pictures yet. I'm sure they're all a bunch of pretentious art-nouveau shots, but I'm fine with that.

Josh wandered in and wanted me to get out of the half-costumed state I was in and get back into whatever I was wearing earlier. I told him to go to hell and drank the rest of my coffee.

There is a point very close to the beginning where I bless the main character (seriously, a whole Papal Benediction Roman Catholic monstrosity). Brittany came up to me at the top of the show and slowly blessed me backstage and said, "It looks like you're doing some kind of Jedi mind trick - 'these are not the droids you're looking for...'" Of course, onstage, trying so hard to lust after Foff, all I could think in my mind was, "You are not a Jedi. Please don't laugh. You are not a Jedi. Dear god, don't crack."

Well, I didn't break, but the scene fell flat with me. Lots of scenes fell flat with me tonight. Foff didn't seem his usual dead perfection; Shannon was stumbling; even word-perfect Dušan missed something. Maybe it was the audience. They seemed a little too amused by everything. They laughed at things that were just beyond over-the-top, like poor Shannon's drunken loss of everything important to her.

Well, whatever. They were entertained.

We went out to Central after the show and had some drinks. I have a public! There's always a little meet-and-greet thing outside the doors to the theatre where the actors get to say hi to those that came to see them. My family and friends came on the first night, the disaster night. By the time our emergency cast meeting came to a close, they had already left. At Central last night, though, some random kid in facial hair and a western shirt (total hipster) told me I was amazing. Sure, he could have been hitting on me, but I was just pleased someone noticed me.

After Central, we hit up the Grotto for dancing. Hipster kid (who is a friend of Josh) also came, and he and I had our indie rock pissing contest for a few hours. He says I lost because I don't own We'll Build Them A Golden Bridge. I say I won because I saw Destroyer live. He said he knew I was an indie pop nerd from the polka dots. Sort of the same way I recognised him from the facial hair and the western shirts. Alicia also dragged along some lovely French Canadian guy with whom she made out for most of the night. I was not really interested in him, but I still wanted him to follow me around saying things in French.

After the Grotto finally closed, we wandered over to Denny's, where we were way too loud and shared a lot of disgusting food and three bowls of ranch dressing. Then it was off to Alicia's house, where Foff, Josh and Lindsay mysteriously disappeared, and she and I went inside to bullshit and smoke a bit. I didn't know she shared my fascination with Audrey Hepburn, but there you go. John showed up not long after that to walk me home, but he hung around a bit and we talked with Alicia.

Then I fell asleep... Then I woke up.

The run's half done, now. Please, let the kid make one show.

(2 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

Once more with feeling. [13 Jan 2007|12:07am]
[ mood | tense tense omg tense ]

I went to the theatre not too terribly long after waking up. I managed to shower, but not to put on clothes. Pyjamas were the uniform of the day. I was drained, grumpy and completely not feeling it. Sort of the feeling you have right before you call in sick to work. Josh sent me an MSN message asking me to come to the theatre. He, Foff and Troy had been there all morning trying to drill John's role into Troy. He was starting to get bored.

I decided that being forty minutes early wouldn't kill me, so I went. I skipped Starbucks to grab coffee at the school so I could catch an early bus only to find that Tim Horton's was closed already. I walked into the green room, where Foff was asleep and Josh was messing around on Lindsey's laptop.

Cheryl, the Technical Director, was hovering over a motherlode of food on the counter. As soon as I walked in, she forced some vitamin C on me and set me to making coffee. The table was laid out with saltines, chicken soup, oranges and assorted fruits, various kinds of tea, cough drops, lozenges, assorted pain medication and a giant pile of jujubes for good measure. She was making some weird concoction of garlic and ginger and lemon and feeding it to Shannon.

Apparently no one was getting sick tonight.

I got my hair done in my teddy bear pants and set to putting on makeup. I knew I looked like shit, but I didn't really need Josh's validation of that. Once the eyeliner went on, my condition was upgraded to 'almost human'.

The warmup was the single longest, most intense thing in the world, with a marathon game of Zip-Po-Pah (don't ask) followed by singing and stretching and meditation. Everyone had this odd, hyperhappy face on, even though they had dark circles under their eyes.

I didn't quite feel anything until Troy put on John's tie. I was so proud of him for stepping up and I had my support behind him, but I had this pang of guilt. Like this was a betrayal or something. I got him the tie and Dušan showed him how to tie it. And we were off to the races.

I spent the entire first act in the wings, which is unusual for me - I love the green room. Just before Troy's big scene, I stood pretty motionless against the wall, completely tense. Cheryl was practically biting her nails. Even all in black, I could see Crystal and Tove hopping back and forth. As Troy got into the scene, Robin walked by me and opened the curtain a hair to watch. I ran up behind him to peek through, too. Troy didn't nail it, but he didn't miss a single beat and completely pulled it off. When he came off, he got silent cheers in the green room. We were so proud of him.

John, however, is now in Summerland. Four more shows. Please let him make one.

(save a horse)

The shitshow that is Live Theatre. [12 Jan 2007|02:33pm]
[ mood | frghhh&6tyhj ]

Wow. When I wrote that last post, I had absolutely no idea, did I?

Backstory as follows: The play centers around Quentin, a middle-aged man who talks pretty much straight for eighty pages. The rest of the cast sort of flutters in and out to have a scene with him and then we leave. Foff, who plays Quentin, has exactly one page in the entire script where he doesn't say anything. He doesn't do anything drastic, like leave the stage and get a damn drink, but he at least gets to rest his voice.

On this page, Josh (playing Lou) and John (playing Mickey) have an incredibly intense fight which later causes Josh to throw himself in front of a subway train.

I waited in the wings with the people I thought would be there. And stage crew in blacks and headsets kept rushing by, pills in hand, water bottles, cel phones, abject terror written all over them. Apparently John was incoherent and in and out of consciousness. He was stark white and shivering.

"Oh, shit." Thinks me. I make my entrance. John usually enters right above me on the balcony, and we both have lines right off the bat. I hear him speaking and think, "Oh thank goodness; he's okay."

I do my stuff and wander back to the wings. We're now approaching the page where Josh and John have it out. Another flurry of crew and headsets and pills and a panicked Technical Director. And I hear Foff, onstage, improvising lines that aren't in the script. No one told him or warned him - there was no way to, since he never leaves the stage. He put together a monologue in his head that covered all the bases that would have been covered in the fight.

In the green room, there are speakers that playback what's happening in the theatre so actors know what's happening and when to go on. The entire cast was huddled around them like they were the most important things in the world, hanging on Foff's every made-up word.

Josh was probably in the middle of his change and really didn't know what the rest of the cast and crew had clued into, since he was waiting to go on. Stage management grabs Josh (who does the fight scene in a bathing suit, by the way) and says, "Pretend you already had the fight" and pushes him through the gallery exit. Josh is onstage in royal blue short shorts, altering his lines as though they were something that had already happened and he was just recounting the story again. I don't think he's ever felt more naked.

So where was John during all this? On his way to the hospital. He's my friend. I was as worried as I would be for any other friend - I probably get along better with him than anyone else in the cast.

The play ends. I had several friends in the audience, all of whom said something like "Wow, great play. Very powerful. I thought John was supposed to be in it?" Foff and Josh had done such a fucking amazing job that no one noticed. Foff proved to us all that he could carry the entire show alone and that we were all entirely expendable. You have to wonder if he ever had a moment during that monologue where he just wondered if anyone else was ever going to come onstage again. And that was supposed to be his one-page break.

The opening night 'party' at BP was sort of a downer. Well, except for Foff, Josh and Troy (John's new understudy). Those three probably won't have to buy alcohol for themselves ever again. The Technical Director told us in no uncertain terms that we were NOT to go to the hospital. So when Brittany, Alicia and I arrived at the hospital, we discovered that Robin and Dušan had beat us there by a good half hour.

We stayed until sunrise, when they finally started running tests on the poor kid. He feels like shit, and I am completely confused as to what I'm supposed to be doing to alleviate this for him. I mean, not just physically feeling like shit. This guy wanted this just as bad as anyone else in the show. We've all pretty much given our lives to it for the past few months and now he doesn't get to participate in the payoff? Sure, Foff and Josh got to prove they have some serious improv chops. Stage management gets to shine under pressure. Troy gets to be onstage in a production I'm not even sure he auditioned for. But what about John?

(2 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

We open tomorrow. [11 Jan 2007|12:54am]
[ mood | wired ]

In nineteen hours, the theatre will be in a state of pre-show and we'll all be waiting in the wings. This time, however, it'll be real. I'll be down at the first entrance with Brittany and Jackie, Josh, Tara and Mike. And we'll be waiting for the lights to fade to black. The next time I step on that stage in those killer heels that are a size too small, someone will be watching.

That nose bandage might be the death of me. Placing it myself is annoying and stressful, especially since I only have a single line to do it in. At least I don't have to change there any longer. I am giddy with anticipation. I can't remember the last time I was on a stage.

(1 rode a cowboy | save a horse)

After The Fall [09 Jan 2007|02:16am]
Arthur Miller's After the Fall opens this Thursday, January 11 and will run Friday and Saturday of this week and Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week.

Tickets are available at the Actor's Workshop Theatre box office weekday afternoons or by phone at (250) 377-6100.

This is me plugging the play. Go me!

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]