Tag Archives: twelfth night

The Accidental Asshole & The Apocalypse

30 Nov

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Look, it wasn’t my fault.

…I mean it was my fault, but I didn’t do it on purpose, okay?

Moving into our final weekend of shows, there are all of I think three people in the cast now who don’t have a cold.  And I started it.  So I’m the giant asshole.  But not on purpose. I didn’t mean to do it. 

…I swear.

“Oh, sure,” they say sarcastically, while sucking on Halls drops and grimacing through cup after cup of hot Gollum Piss…their insides curdling and pickling and poaching while their outsides rain sweat and snot.

I am now to be surrounded by cold-zombies of my own making.

This is how the Apocalypse really happens, people.

Another plague.

Just one.

…We keep waiting for these giant earth-shattering asteroids, or for a sudden gravity shift to fling us accidentally into the sun…but what is really gonna happen, has already begun.

A tiny viral death.

…Roasting in clammy costumes…

…In a dusty theatre…

…Then picked up and sweated onto others, in humid backstage non-ventilation, and spread like evil air-born spores of awful.

…And we aren’t the only ones. The audience, living in it all night long, will bring it home with them. And the unsuspecting Ushers. And the Box Office Staff. Carrying it to school and work and home, to follow. Hell, we already infected five schools of children, on Tuesday alone! And they, in turn, will mack on each other in hallways and at football games and sweat all over one another in P.E. to continue the chain moving forward.

…Which, when given the doomsday end date of December 21st, makes total and complete sense.

Ask any Mom of a kid with chicken pox or head lice: that shit is potent and immediate!

Not to freak you all out or anything, but it is entirely mathematically possible, that THIS is the very last cold we will ever have…as like an entire human race, and things.

…Which, to my mind, makes daring to experiment with seven kind of cold meds simultaneously, (in hopes of gaining SOME phantom of relief at SOME point), not only permissible, but almost a requirement in the name of mankind. In order to extend our nature of function as long as possible…until the end finally comes.

One by one, we will eventually drop to the ground like discarded marionettes, overcome with fever-comas…only to rise again the next day, as freak zombie spawn, off to infect and induct more of our kind.

…Which means, back in the good old days when Bible-thumpers were damning prostitutes and actors with the same breath, calling theatre’s the deepest cankers of disease and damnation in all of humanity…apparently they were right.

…But listen: we were all gonna go someday, anyhow. At least this way, you’ll go out entertained, laughing, while pissed out of your mind on good drugs and alcohol, with your best friends by your side. Not taken down in a burst of fire and brimstone, hollering screams of agony.

So: You’re welcome for that.

…Now, don’t you think you should show your appreciation to us while you still can, and come on down to see the show? Cuz I think it’s the least you could do.

The last three performances of “Twelfth Night” (quite probably, EVER.)

…Don’t be the one poor sunofabitch who missed out.

~D

For The Groundlings

15 Nov

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Tonight is our Pay What You Can…a performance for those who aren’t of the easy spare-cash-crowd.

…A notoriously loud and appreciative audience, made up mostly of our poor friends, is usually what this means.  And we welcome them (and  you) all into the theatre tonight for some bawdy fun.  Laugh loudly, cat-call at will, and enjoy what our four reviews assure, are fine performances in a joyous romp of mistaken identities, love, revenge and hilarity.

Go us’s!

Meanwhile: Today, a slow one at work.  The WHS Pimp and I decided to take the opportunity of Boss being absent, to reorganize some things in the Warehouse and office.  New systems to be implemented soon, which will have the Bunnies in an uproar, as they are when any change takes place.  But with winter on the horizon, it’s time to tighten up the belts and condense things into ship-shape specifics.  This has everything to do with a rumored OTHER Corporate visit, supposedly taking place the last week of this month. So, it’s better we be prepared now and get everyone used to the new order of things…two weeks before their coming.

***

Last night paid a visit to Marty and Bruce as K.L. pulled his second 24hr duty in three days. 

…Much “Will & Grace” over Tai food eating taking place, with script read to prep a bit for Saturday’s callback before the show.

…Which will be an interesting day, as emotions go, thanks to the topic matter. With a buffer of one hour and fifteen minutes ‘tween the death, ruination and questionable lesbian crises involving two teachers at an all girls boarding school, that is “Children’s Hour,” and our call for “Twelfth Night.” 

Sure!

…We can do that!

…We can do anything!

We…are “Actors!”

(Pass it around.)

~D

Next!

11 Nov

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First weekend in the can, and our audiences mercifully gained in participation presence more and more with each performance. 

…Today’s matinee (a usually notoriously quiet crowd) was all in on the hijinks and drama…our best house yet.  And with the closing of our opening week, also finish the reviewers…hopefully good write-ups in all, and put in ink by Friday at the latest, in order to help boost ticket sales through what is now projected to be a cold and wet stretch into Thanksgiving.

…Meanwhile, the next show on my audition docket began today with open calls, and should be cast before next Monday, a week from tomorrow.  A hell of a drama, with lots of meat to chew…and a good balance, after a comedy like this one.

Could be a busy winter, with some interesting theme-play. 

…Need time ‘tween now and Thursday’s show to review the other script again and study up a bit.  Switching gears, switching time periods, switching head-space.  It’s a good exercise.  But will mean I’ll have to do some line-runs of “Twelfth” before show time, just to keep m’brain clear on where we are in the current game.

Meanwhile: to rest from last night…a cast gathering into the wee smalls, where we eventually dropped like rag dolls to the floor until the smell of Starbuck’s coffee and bacon grease revived us to the land of the living, in time for our first matinee.  Our Fabian graciously hosted, we graciously ate, drank, played and laughed until our bodies gave out.  Five cups of coffee later, I can feel me coming down off the high now, post show, and hitting those four hours of sleep like a brick wall with little buffer.

…Which reminds me that sometimes it’s not the greatest idea to sleep on a floor the night before you wedge yourself back into a steel-ribbed corset for the ninth day in a row. 

Good to know.

Tonight: I’m back home. The heater blaring on high, the fish fed, the Shakespeare infusion of DVDs…having done their job…now being put back into their places on the bookshelves. I’m done feeding the beast of royal obsession on all things Bard, and am now free to move onto other things…like “Once,” (as Marty seems very insistent about.)

And tomorrow?  A free day off in the name of Veteran’s everywhere.  As if what they’ve already done for us wasn’t wonderful enough.  Think I’ll clean house, and fest some War flicks in dedication.  Maybe read that book I keep meaning to start.

…For now, some hot cocoa, I think. Snuggle up in m’blankets, and play with some Netflix streaming, until I zonk out.

Good plan.  Wonder how far I’ll get before I…

— Zzzzzzzz…

~D

…And Then There Were Exploding Biscuits

8 Nov

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Last night was a first.

…I dunno how I’ve gotten this far in costume drama and have never experienced it before…but last night I sneezed in a corset, for the first time.

…And we aren’t talking a wimpy, lacy lingerie version, here…we are talking a steel band, reinforced, Ren-Fair, stiffened leather, armpit to crotch, kind.

It was ‘tween scenes, waiting for a cross-over from the lobby.  Our Feste was standing next to me, and almost completely lost his shit with my reaction.  I dunno what in the world it looked like, but it felt like my ribs exploded into about 20 steel-ribbed reinforcements at roughly the speed of 40 MPH. 

…Maybe because they did.

…And because it was mid a scene on stage, I tried my best to muffle it.

I’ve never had cause to think of it before, but that shit will actually break your ribs. It’s sort of a notorious hazard, in fact…according to Google over here…which in all of my years, no one has seen fit to relay to me before. I guess common sense would inform you of it, but then when you have 11-hundred other things to worry about at the moment, accidentally sneezing doesn’t register that high on the list, strangely enough.

…So let it be known, you S & M/Period Drama/Renaissance Fair/Fashionistas: Kill the inclination. Kill it however you must. You don’t wanna go there- trust me.

…Like a very violent biscuit can tube, exploding when you’ve pulled the tab wrong and it doesn’t open the ceal properly.

(And thank you JM for that little nugget-example.)

…Honestly, I’m just glad that the front stays, along my bladder, didn’t push me into instant release.  Cuz it hurt pretty awesome, and I’m fairly sure if I had to go pee at that moment, it would have been all over for me at that point. A whole new direction to take the Character.

Tonight is Preview.

At. Fucking. Last.

…The energy yesterday on stage, was like negative 3…which some then tried too hard to over compensate for, in the form of milking the hell out of shit just to get a reaction…at all…anything…even a nose sniffle…or a sigh…or even the crinkle of a candy wrapper…just SOMETHING!

…I found early on that I had a crap case of chew-mouth…where every word was eaten, coming out in a miss-mash of anti-diction (despite all my warm-ups.) By the third scene, I realized I was driving precariously close to mime-intensity with my facial reactions, as if it would somehow make up for the fact that you probably couldn’t understand what the hell I was saying. Signing, over-gregariously, might help bridge the language gap in a foreign country, but not on this stage.

I am (sorry to say) one of those actors who tries much too hard to compensate for their failings, in endless spirals of self-consciousness, whenever I don’t happen to be feeling quite up to par. Its a dangerous place to live, difficult to control and navigate, and almost impossible to ignore. Last night, I spent nearly every single moment on that stage, inside my head…every line, every movement…an exhausting enterprise of constant second-guessing…which I blame on both being far too tired to trust it would happen as it needed to naturally, and also the fact that we are still playing to a vacuum of silence that is almost painful, it is so present, with anti-matter.

We’ve been ready for an audience since Monday, and are sapped of joy and urgency, in playing to an empty theatre of seats. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. And when we try to fix it at this point, it all just goes to hell. Not in a devastating way…more in a molasses-pull of slow suckage. Which is almost worse.

…But TONIGHT!

Oh, TONIGHT!

…At LAST, we will have viewing eyeballs, and butts in the seats, and people to interact with, and new infusions of energy, and purpose and design and play!

Tonight, we will finally start to figure out what is really funny, and what are just inside jokes which amused us that other people are never gonna get. Tonight we learn the balance of the comedy…how delicate we can make the somber moments…how conniving we can make the shenanigans. Tonight we get to dip into that little inkwell of nerves that gives performers their extra oompf.

…So thank you, ahead of time, to our Preview patrons! We’ve waited forever to hear you. So don’t be shy! Come whoop yourselves into a tizzy. We saved the first dance, just for you!

~D

Friends Of Great Feet & The Little Redheaded Girl

17 Oct

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When you’ve done enough shows, and at the same theatres for years and years, after a spit of time you will notice the wardrobe re-uses, no matter how crafty they get with new pairings and re-workings. 

…You’ll see something you’ve worn in say an Agatha Christie, pop up again on someone else in a Noel Coward.  You’ll see a pair of pants you wore in a cross-dressing scene on a pre-teen boy a year later.  “That” was the vest my “lover” wore when he tried to kill me in that one show, “those” are the pair of heels I strapped on every night for the “dinner” scene in that OTHER one.  In one act there could be ten or eleven pieces screaming out at me from their live mannequins on stage saying, ” Remember me?!  Remember me?!”  It becomes like a totally unintended version of “Where’s Waldo” every time I go see something period at all, because it is only a matter of time before half my previous costumes (and/or parts and pieces of them), come back to haunt me in some way.

…Good God, the stories those things could tell.

…And now I will be bringing back a very special pair of friends with me into “Twelfth Night.”  Two rather lived-in, scuffed up, re-soled beauties in which I sang, jumped, climbed, kicked, danced and died throughout the entire last Holiday season.  Just digging them out of the closet made me grin.  And with a split-second segue into cockney, I greeted them as old friends should:

“…’Ello me beau’ies.  It’s been a might now, ain’t it.  Up for a’nover ‘go’?”

It’s been a whole year since “Oliver!,” and I can’t even believe it.

…Yes. I am terribly and ridiculously sentimental. But these shoes have earned it.  We went to War together, and in some instances they quite literally felt like they were all I had.  Hours and hours working choreography, and blocking, and hoisting and jumping, and climbing…on and off the stage.  And they never once let me down.  So why should it be any different for these leather lace-up Victorian boots, than for a Pitcher’s favorite mitt, or a Golfer’s club, a Cyclist’s bike or a Painter’s brush? 

You have favorite pieces of music that remind you of people, some trinkets you refuse to get rid of because of memories they contain.  This is no different.  For some, they consider it “good luck,” for others a “tradition.”  For me, these memories don’t require a prop like this to always be present, but when they are…it seems all the more “activated.”

…These shoes are like that.

But, this isn’t where the story ends

These beauties are actually only “borrowed” friends, on their third journey with me, not the second.  The first was around a decade ago, where they were given me for the first time, on loan. The show then was is the same theatre…only took place on a small Canadian Island, called Prince Edward…and a beautifully gifted, naturally red-headed, fourteen-year-old little girl was leading the pack as “Anne of Green Gables.”

…And that same young woman, (now home from University and studies abroad), is back again, for the first time, since. The same house…the same unspoiled, fierce talent…the same shock of red hair…now playing our “Olivia,” with beautiful abandon.

…Sure.  It kinda makes me feel old.  But then, it has such a feeling of “belonging” in it, don’t you think?  And I’ve relocated from her Mrs. Barry, to her lady-in-waiting, Maria. 

A decade since last we played together.

…And I’ll be reminded of it, every night, when I get into costume, (and all the rehearsals now in between)…lacing up me boots…(double knots, as “Nancy” once taught me to.)  Two very special shows to bring with me, into a new third, as a kind of blessing over the whole.

Meanings within meanings. 

Actors use all of that shit, you guys. 

…And nothing will help me to be the mothering, doting, fiercely protecting lady-in-waiting more, than to remember the time I spent with that Anne girl all those years ago, seeing her now grown and in full bloom, kicking ass all over that stage, ever nightly.

I love the theatre, so…

~D

Pirate WiFi & Scriptopia

18 Sep

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I would first of all like to publicly thank the new neighbor in C1, who decided NOT to password protect their wireless signal.

…Those two days where I was kinda pissed from all the stomping around and nailing things at all hours, that they did?  I’m totally over it now.  And I’ll try my best not to watch weird circus porn (apparently it exists, you guys, and I just found out about it)…or steal too many torrent downloads while on their network. Because even through I am a Pirate, we still have “codes of honor” and  things. And the first one is that Pirates don’t “accidentally” crash other people’s systems while pirating from them. Because that’s just rude.  Although, it’s entirely possible that since my Android pad is really a “phone,” they don’t even know I’m ripping signal from them anyway…due to Ice Cream Sandwich being way more awesome and stealthy than a Windows platform.  Or whatever the hell Mac runs on. 

…Which basically makes me kind of a Pirate Ninja, really.

Tell me I didn’t just get cooler right now.  Go ahead. Tell me.

…So thanks, C1 for the free juice.  Maybe my hotspot will quit maxing out now, and I can watch Netflix streams until my eyes pop out.

Anything is possible, friends.

In Other News: It is time to start making out with m’script. The joy of highlighting (orange, thank you) has already commenced. I’ve done a couple skim-throughs, and tonight I start hashing it up with notes…till it roughly resembles a road map used by someone in a foreign country, who really really likes to make liner notes. Tomorrow: begins the memorizing.

…Fuck how I hate it so.

…It’s a Shakespeare, btw. “Twelfth Night.” I’ll be the saucy wench-cuz, Maria. (Of course.) And where that isn’t exactly a far stretch in character range for me, (no!) I haven’t done a Shakes in like eight or nine years now…so gettin’ back into the flow of things will give me something to push against and reach for.

Fun role and one of m’favorite shows in the cannon.

This, more than any of the others, really balances out into a true “ensemble” cast of complete, rounded characters. Everyone gets to play at all levels and have their day. And it’s one of the very few wherein the strong female central role doesn’t have to pay for her power, out the ass, sometime later.

(…Hello, Lady Mackers, and Kate and Gertrude et al…I’m talkin’ ’bout YOU.)

…Our leading lady is “M” (of “Agatha Christie In Spandex” fame), just in case you were wondering. So that’ll only be an effing hoot-and-a-half. Should get quite a few people’s butts in the seats, too.

I know mine would be, if it weren’t already busy on stage at the time.

…I can only imagine the kinda blogs I’ll get outta this one. A lot of the cast are old friends, but there is a large rush of new blood in the ranks as well. So we’ll have the freak-troops of olde, intermingling with first timers to infuse gobs of energy. Plus, it’ll be the first time I’ve set foot on that particular stage since last December…when I was doing that little singing, drinking, dancing, crying and dieing, ditty..throughout the Holiday season.

…So this’ll be a little different, then…pretty much all ’round.

I say thee, ye!

…And with that, I’m off to steal signals, search the webs, and scribble in study. Like the good little Pirate-Wench-Ninja, that I am.

Cheers!

~D

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