Lines

Every actor has a way of learning his lines that works best for him. For me, it's a combination of the working in rehearsal (the repetition of reading the lines while writing down the blocking) and recording my scenes to a CD I can listen to on the way there. Outside of rehearsal, I'm not one for book study. In fact, I frequently type my scenes so that I can print and carry only what I immediately need. This could be considered a third method of studying lines, but it also serves to protect the condition of my book. There's nothing quite as sad to me -- a long-time book lover -- as the torn and dog-eared look of a worn rehearsal script.

So it's interesting now to be working on two short, original, unpublished scripts which I've printed from files e-mailed to me. Certainly, there is no need to re-type the lines. And recording them to CD this morning was a quick process.

In one script, I play one of two women in a presidential/personal debate. Although I carry half the line load, that ain't much in a 10-page play. In the second script, I play two small parts in flashbacks to the lead's last job interview (her interviewer) and her school days (her teacher). This play is twice as long, at 20 pages, but I'm on only two of them. Recording both on one disc, I have roughly 10 minutes of listening time. I think -- I know -- that's a record. If not for one play, then certainly for two!

What's interesting about that, then, is that these two pieces, these ten minutes of cumulative stage time, will be more "important" than any full-length piece I've done in San Diego. And I'll get paid for both. Forgetting for a moment the comparison of local, wet-ink scripts to those which have been published, that's quite a deal!

Meanwhile, with two shows competing for my rehearsal time, planning a trip home to see my dentist would seem daunting. As luck would have it, though, Director #1 will rehearse only on Tuesdays and Director #2 will be traveling for a week. Syncing my trip with hers is only a matter of familial communication. Which is not to say "easy."

It seems likely that I'll be flying to Tennessee on a Wednesday, visiting a dentist and picking up new headshots during the week, visiting friends and family on the weekend (Riverbend, anyone?), and flying home on a Monday to make the next Tuesday rehearsal; but it's all a matter of Frequent Flyer miles, my father's travel agenda, and all the other little considerations (airport pickup, a vehicle to drive) that make travel interesting.

If it all comes together, I'll also be rummaging through my storage again, this time looking for a particular prompt script from the Barn era. A script which, should the opportunity arise, I'd consider directing. No, I haven't pursued that idea at all. But I haven't forgotten it, either.

Of course, I'll have to pack plenty of crossword puzzles for the flight in. Because with only 10-minutes to upload to the iPod, I'll be finished listening to my lines before I've even passed through airport security!

Movin' On

The Actors Alliance sent a bulletin announcing the staged reading of "two incendiary plays" this week. Stop Kiss by Diana Son and Oleanna by David Mamet. I attended both.

Tuesday's Stop Kiss reminded me very much (in structure) of Boy Gets Girl. The valuable difference to this piece is that in this one girl gets girl -- and neither girl is filing charges to stop it. Like Boy Gets Girl, it's told in 23 short scenes that allow for the passage of time. Unlike Boy Gets Girl, it's told in two chronologies rather than one -- the audience sees both the progression toward the girls' unexpected kiss while also seeing the progression of events after one of them is hospitalized as a result of it. It was in interesting bit of theatre, but even with the inclusion of the "big bad lesbian kiss," it was nowhere near as unsettling as Wednesday's Oleanna.

In Oleanna, Mamet gives us an about-to-be tenured published professor in his forties and his twenty-something student who doesn't get it. In the first act, the student, Carol, has questions about her grade, fears about failing, and questions about nearly every 10-dollar word or phrase the professor uses. She takes notes on everything. To comfort and perhaps inspire the student, the professor tells a story from his own youth that directly parallels the fears she has, and when Carol later becomes fiercely emotional, he puts his arm around her. In Act Two, that action and words taken out of context from the meeting become the basis of her complaint to the Tenure Committee.

His safety and security in question, about to lose a house bought on the expectation of his promotion and the promotion itself, the confounded professor questions Carol about her charges, becoming more frustrated as the miscommunication escalates. When at the end of the second act Carol attempts to leave, he grabs her arm and restrains her. In Act Three, that action is subject to criminal charges: rape. Tenure and the house are lost. The professor's job is lost. His marriage is in question. His reputation ruined.

Lamenting only the complaint to the tenure committee and its results, he refuses Carol's demands for an exchange -- the banning of his book and others for the dropping of her charges. When he discovers those charges are now criminal, he lashes out and beats her, sealing his fate.

Though I don't know, honestly, whether or not I LIKED the piece, I can honestly say that I cannot remember the last time that any theatrical work stirred me this way. I was mad. Furious. But impressed. Theatre has a unique ability to evoke response in a way that neither film nor prose can do; but rarely have I seen it utilized so well. Or, given the nature of staged reading, so sparingly.

I've never been among the throng of Mamet fans. To me, Glengarry Glen Ross was a staged drinking game -- take a shot every time they say "fuck" and get wasted! And from that, I'd taken no interest in his other works. Now I have to give the man credit. He absolutely made me think and feel.

Damn.

The Actors Alliance theme continued Thursday night with the first read-through of one of the scripts I'll be performing in the Festival. What's going to be interesting about this is that, though it's only a 10-page-play, already the director is spouting grand ideas and parallels. As she should. However, I have my own fears and doubts about taking direction. To be frank, what I have learned and am most familiar with is what I'll call "Barn fare." Working at the Barn gave me the practical equivalent of 4-year degree in theatre, but it was limited. Comedies and farces, the odd mystery, the occasional musical. Light, fun, crowd-pleasing entertainment.

In community theatre, I could use what I learned because most of these little theatres have similar seasons of light, fun, crowd-pleasing entertainment. Moving out of community theatres again without a comedy net, I question my ability to interpret text correctly or to understand and give back what the director wants. I don't have a bag of tricks for this.

Which leads me to my one and only sympathetic moment with Oleanna's Carol: "everybody's talking about 'this' all the time. And 'concepts,' and 'precepts' and, and, and, and, and, WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

Comfort zone is gone, baby. Gone.

Card Carrying

This is the Actors Alliance membership card that declares me to be a "professional" actor. It was awarded on the basis of significant roles for which I was paid in Nashville, as recognized by Program Director Jason Heil, who has himself performed in Nashville and thus recognized the venues on my resume. Small world. From this point on, I will be trying to encourage growth on that part of my resume.

So, when my current show closes, I'm beginning with the Actors Alliance Festival in July.

I have been cast in two of the plays that will be presented in the Festival, both locally written. One by Kristina Meek, the other by Julianne Eggold. Casting in the first was not a total surprise as Kristina herself suggested I audition for the festival so that I might be considered (I had recently read another piece of hers for the Playwright's Collective). Casting in the second was a bit more surprising as it came without any networking or connections, solely off the monologue I did at the audition. Yes: a monologue!

Paying gigs on the horizon and the opportunity to be seen by a new crop of directors: can't hurt!

A Moment Backstage...

Behind closed stage doors, Mary, Vicki, and Dad exchange a glance.

It says "If we're all back here, there's no one out there who knows their lines."

Four actors on stage improvise the scene.

We shake our heads.

One more weekend.

A Familiar Ring Would Be Nice

Dotty: And I take the sardines. No, I leave the sardines. No, I take the sardines.
Lloyd: You leave the sardines and you hang up the phone.
Dotty: Yes, right. I hang up the phone.
Lloyd: And you leave the sardines.
Dotty: I leave the sardines?
Lloyd: You leave the sardines.
Dotty: I hang up the phone and I leave the sardines?
Lloyd: Right!
Dotty: We've changed that, have we, dear?
Lloyd: No, dear...
Dotty: That's what I've always been doing?
Lloyd: I wouldn't say that, Dotty my precious.
Dotty: Well, how about the words, dear, am I getting some of them right?
Lloyd: Some of them have a very familiar ring.

I've you've ever seen Noises Off, that exchange should be familiar to you. Exceptionally funny! Oh, the hilarity! Great stuff! Unless you're in a show where this is going on in front of a paying audience... and that show is NOT titled Noises Off.

As I go in for another pickup rehearsal of before beginning the third week of performance, I'll leave you with another scene from Noises Off, indicative of the way my current show has been running. I wonder which title I should put on my resume....

Dotty: Sardines! I've forgotten the sar ...
[She notices the sardines sitting on the table and stares at them for a moment]
Dotty: No I 'aven't; I 'aven't forgotten the sardines. Well, what a surprise; I'll just go into the kitchen and fix some more sardines to celebrate!