Tag Archives: importance of being earnest

And, Curtain.

14 Jul

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“Earnest” has been stripped, unscrewed from the floors, dislocated from the window bracings…our clothes (still on hangers) were loaded up into the back of a car trunk with all the finality of a coffin lid closing. No more props tables, or muffins and cucumber sandwiches…no more pictures and well-wishing notes on the dressing room walls.

…No more dressing room walls, period. 

They don’t belong to us anymore. 

…They’ve now been bequeathed to the next guys, along with that “every theatre in the world” smell…that aroma mix of sawdust, mothballs, sweat, hot lamps, old masking blacks, paint, Ben Nye face base, and hairspray.

The sense of a full life lived, kept us at peace with it all, though…as all the deconstructing began, directly after bows.  We HAD actually won the first bet and sold out the house, the audience was riled and ready to laugh, and our Director was back in the house…coming full circle to how this whole adventure had begun ages and ages ago, once upon a time, in a rehearsal room. With all that in mind, all the last reserve of anything we had left, was pumped into the performance with that extra zing that only Openings and Closings, have.

Bittersweet.

…But before we could get lost in a thick quicksand of regrets, we were off to the stage to work and play, followed by a delight of a cast party hosted by our Lane (and the Mrs.), where much food and drink was consumed, (garden party style) and Croquet and Cards Against Humanity was played.

Sick amounts of laughter can make you forget almost anything.

…Like the fact that next Friday, we’ve no “home” to go to, no costumes to put on, no lines to say.

…It’ll be just an average, ordinary day.

Actor’s don’t really know what to do with those kind of things.

…So it’s good I have a “next” to focus on, at that point.  Not that it will be easy to redirect towards.

For now: my theatre FB header and profile pic will stay the same.  I’ve no interest in making an alteration any time soon.  Where before, these things were a press and advertising nod, now it has become a look back on good collaborative work, during an excellent summer run, with a happy company of Anglophiles.

Thanks, friends, for taking the creative blog journey with me while we did it.

Also, “Huzzah!” for bets won.

Goodbye, dearest Gwendolen Fairfax and all the rest…

…And thanks to Oscar, for the Wilde ride.

~D

The Blog That Wasn’t

14 Jun

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I’m nearly to my year of blog-a-days, and last night (for only the second time) posted naught.

It was Opening, guys…

…I was having fun…

…Marty came for catch ups…

…Post cast hang time at the Mexi-bar…

…Multiple house guests talking of Dr. Who and theatre in general until all hours…

…Passed out humans in various rooms, soon to follow.

In short: It didn’t happen, and I was having too much fun to regret it.

Here is its placeholder. 

“The Blog That Wasn’t”

A joyous cast killed over 5 minutes off the show time in pace, wound up all the one-liners neatly, tied up the ending with a bow, and got its first (stellar) review already on the internet, making the FB and other PR rounds as we speak.

…We are happy peeps.

…And now for a bit of a nap, before the end-of-year theatre patio BBQ and auction, (special entertainment by The Fella), with our (hopefully) sold-out second performance of Earnest to follow.

Huzzah and things!

~D

Miss Fairfax Writes A Little

5 May

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How could I not take the obvious screaming lead to explore this character through her diaries?  The prized possession never leaves her side, (or at least a small notebook version, from which she will later translate and flesh out fully, given the time.)  So onto my first building of a little backstory, as I dive into Gwendolen.

…Followed by our first read at noonish.

And, I’m off!

***

“The Sumptuous Divesting of a Woman, Au Courant”

Volume IV

***

Dearest Diary,

A new book.

“His Nibs” had you fashioned, bound especially, and sent directly whilst on tour in Paris mid-Holiday.

…I do think it mean of him to “off” with the ink of his final exams still yet damp, to other people and other places, in lieu of returning home again, as he should. Papa intimated it is just so, for young men to tour the continent whilst mid term, (“seeing a mite of the world, what?”), though Mamma quite overturned him…siding with me upon receipt of the news, and was entirely off her tea when Gerald’s letter first arrived.

…Now, he is off again. Italy to follow, we are told (with the note tucked into our gift boxes, just arrived today.) Papa: a new cigar case…though he never smokes, despite Mamma’s attempts to encourage him, (“A man should always have an occupation of some kind.”) Mamma: a very smart broach in gold setting, (“I have the simplest taste. I am always satisfied with the best.”); and for “Dolly”: a new diary, fashioned precisely to my specification of all previous volumes. The dear remembered every detail, which makes me homesick for him all the more.

In the end, he presumes a present of you will ease my displeasure of missing him…and although I must admit, his taste is very fine in choice of paper weight, and cover, and detail, (down to the small affixed lock with corresponding key, tied just so, in scarlet ribbon), it is in no sufficient manner of replacement for ones own dear brother.

…He has been ages at Oxford, and when next I will see him, heaven only knows.

Since my having returned home from abroad, quite “finished,” and mid-season, Mamma has become tiresome with my refusals to pay compliment toward any of the bores at court, which I am forever being forced to endure. Mamma says I should be well content with a good title, firmly set, a country seat or foreign villa for Holiday and an amusing address in Towne, but I am not. I cannot be, and will not! Which has brought upon frightful disagreements, filling quite a quarter of my last volume, with raging and tears.

I do miss Gerald.

I don’t care if it is childish to say it.

…He and I were always such devoted allies, against “The Honorables” (as we used to call them.) Just we two against the world, it now seems. “Nibs & Dolly.” (He: for seducing all to his will, without question. Me: for his mistaking me upon first sight, in infancy, as his plaything.)

I feel, suddenly, fairly blue.

Extraordinary, how one can feel vastly more onliest at home than even the furthest distance abroad at Academy. When home…with the one you love most of all still far from reach… every nook and cranny and memory, of all your old haunts and delights, are ten times the more miserable-making.

I suspect Mamma has deduced the cause of my recurrent melancholy, at last.

…She has requested cousin Algy to stay for a fortnight. Algy, “Nibs” and I were very much “the clutch” once…in our youth…quite, quite long ago.

Amusing to look back on now: being fully twenty-three, and a great deal more experienced.

…They were fine times we had, once. A great many laughs.

Dearest Algy.

…Not “His Nibs,” but a jolly good friend, none-the-less.

He's to ride up, come Saturday. (Providing his invalid-friend Mister Bunbury, has not fallen ill again)…arriving directly from a stay with a new acquaintance, he has often of late been speaking of.

…A Mister Earnest Worthing.

Mamma consulted the Burke’s, but he’s naught to be found. Which causes Mamma now quite to doubt his suitability of “making free” with Algernon’s time.

…And yet, whether of “Peerage” title or no, I must admit…his name did ignite a flame of interest.

…Such a capable name.

I shall inquire Algy on more particulars of him.

…En cachette, of course.

How very fortunate, that he should meet a man…and that I should come to know of him… and that he should not be in the book of Peerage…yet I cannot seem to arrest the sudden fascination, to know more of his nature.

….Particularly as you well know, dear diary, that my ideal has always been to love someone of the name of “Earnest.”

~ H.G.F.

***

~D

Portrait Of A Lady

3 May

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I adore Oscar Wilde.

…His delicious turn of phrase, and the stinging snap of talent he had for making fun of his own society.

…I like to think he caught the gene by some inter-marrying, 12th-cousin-removed bit a-la Jane Austen, which he then passed on (via intellectual love-child twins) to Noel Coward & PG Wodhouse, who would pick up and absolutely run with it…following then one talent upon the other until we reach current day masters like Julian Fellowes (with his tongue-in-cheek alter ego, the Dowager Countess: Lady Grantham), and Stephen Fry (with his everything.)

…The love/hate relationship between the players in their worlds are magnificent, and ridiculous…full of excess, silver-spoon-fed charms, and often, completely sheltered, backward, innocents. They go to places like Ascot, and Royal Assemblies, own crowns made of ancient jewels traceable as far back as their earliest blue blooded relatives, go to court, are presented to the Queen, have “coming-outs” (not in any way associated with their sexual identities), regularly “do” the Season, and have titles that make their calling cards and room-arrivals, whip heads to attention.

…And this is the world I have delightfully been welcomed into, with my next role…(after a stiff fight with a hell of a lot of talent in the room.)

The Honorable Gwendolen Fairfax, daughter of Lord and Lady Bracknell.

As extravagant and precisely turned out as a wedding cake in human form, this splendidly spoiled young woman of means and royal shoulder-rubbing, is fast on her way to becoming a force to be reckoned with, rivaled only by her mother.  She knows what she wants and always gets it, and always will, and that is as it should be. 

…God bless the English Aristocracy.

Amen.

Indeed.

What fun to roll these words around with my tongue and glean the perfectly timed-out significance of a single, solitary, rise, of, eyebrow.

Mdm. Director has shared that “choreography” will be more the tune we set, than mere blocked staging.  Every movement, a clean-cut, efficient, specifically intended gesture…to better tighten-up and suck the air of excess out of the performance, allowing the language to take center stage as the icing on the cake.

…As it bloody well SHOULD be.

Sheer de-light!

A lot of work ahead.

…But this time without diving into war histories and genocides and suicides.

I loved my time spent in the last two worlds of theatre, but now we have moved on through a vast time warp to ridiculous frivolity, wrapped up in corsets and big hats, where women would rather kill themselves with kindness than ever admit their rankles are up…where butlers and man-servants abound, multiple households are a given, but the house number coming from the “fashionable” side of town, is REALLY what matters. 

…A world where people are so completely wrapped up in themselves that they invent OTHER selves purely for the sake of “playing,” get engaged months before they’ve even met, and keep diaries simply for the joy of a sensational read on a boring train ride.

Bliss.

…And I think, a fairly interesting character study via “diary entry,” is soon in the coming.

~D 

On The Docket

30 Apr

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Right.

…So, tomorrow is Wednesday.

I have to remind myself because I haven’t had a “normal” week in like two…”normal” not compared to other people, but just in junction with myself even.

I dunno if I’m coming or going, or really to where, or which county it is in.

This has been a problem since I first started the cold meds. 

…Work at home this day, into half of second, then office, then office again, airport run, south-end run, north-end triple runs: show – show – show, close. Mrs. Johnson pops up, birthday happenings…in another state…back home again, day off, think finally kicked cold, south-end again, half day work from home, airport run again, back to office, prep month-end, home to beat down rest of hangover and study for tomorrow, Ma’s to laundry, back home to blog.

…Is there any freakin’ wonder I’m a total mess right now?

Tomorrow is month-end, followed by about three hours of call-backs for “Importance of Being Earnest.”

…Called for Gwendolyn.

…Which means retracting the 40-something Jewish WWII mama, into a refined 20-something, posh, obsessive-compulsive, Edwardian, proposal-magnet.

Pffft!  I can totally do that on a dime! (She says, trying her best to state it without an inherent question mark at the end.)

…Which will only bring us to halfway through the week that already wouldn’t end. 

And this HUGE zit (which apparently has a cousin staying with Marty), just showed up yesterday.  Prime time for me to look my best, in times when it really matters.

…Meanwhile, I got m’first beautiful blue box of goodies from Tiffany’s in the mail, (c/o Aunty L), a new role offer from a theatre up north, (to keep me busy this fall), devoured this little lovely ditty (which I highly recommend for the equally obsessed) and now: I am off to bed.

Sleep.

…Guys, we ain’t even halfway through yet.

Oie.

Oops.

…I mean, “bugger.”

Shit.

I mean, “How very unfortunate that my current lifestyle is so fully without apparent rhyme nor reason,  when it comes to obtaining sufficient amounts of sleep and focus in order to successfully achieve one’s efforts, when one does try so hard to do ones best.”

(A little grindey on the gears there, friend.  Focus-up! it’s game-time!)

~D

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