Friday Random Ten

We'll have to see if Cat Blogging happens later . . . I seem to have run out of room for the month in my Flickr account (it's only worth it to me to have the free account) and there's only two very similar cat photos as yet unposted. Maybe I'll have room to upload one more . . .


I'll probably throw one of them up. Though once again we're having problems with the wi-fi we're leeching here at home, and it's shutting off and on constantly, so internet activity can be rather annoying.


In the meantime, random ten for this morning while I try to do a tune-up on this laptop:


1. "Russian Dance" -- Tom Waits -- The Black Rider
2. "I Can Only Give You Everything" -- Them -- Nuggets II
3. "The End" -- The Beatles -- Anthology 3
4. "Lamento Beat I Versione" -- Mario Molito -- Kaleidoscopica
5. "I've Got a Feeling" -- Laibach -- Let It Be
6. "Love > Building On Fire" -- Talking Heads -- Sand in the Vaseline
7. "Don't Start Me Talkin'" -- The New York Dolls -- in Too Much Too Soon
8. "Hodokyo" -- Kazuki Tomokawa -- Nikusei
9. "It's" -- King Missle -- The Way to Salvation
10. "Strychnine" -- The Sonics -- Nuggets

Friday Cat Blogging: The Duo

Well, I discovered I had a bit of space left on Flickr to upload some more cat photos, so I've got a total of five pictures of the duo of Hooker and Moni as yet unblogged to hold me to the end of the month.


So, two this week. First, a comparison shot:


Family Size . . . Fun Size!



And now, the occasional cleaning ritual -- sometimes one of them really likes it when the other cleans them, sometimes they just put up with it, sometimes it's done by force, and sometimes it all ends in tears. Which one do you think this is?


Clean Kitty

Temptation Begins

This week, we had the first rehearsals for Temptation, which I'm directing for the Vaclav Havel Festival.

First off, once again I find myself having the same strange feelings I've been having the past few years every day before I get to rehearsal, namely dread and frustration.  I have no idea why, but for the last few years, it's felt like more and more of a horrible chore to go to rehearsals (mainly as a director, only sometimes as an actor).

But then, when I get to rehearsal, and I'm working with the actors, it's like I've been given a massive shot of happywakeup medicine -- I feel energized and excited and like I'm doing what I'm meant to be doing, what I'm good at, and I just want to keep going and going.  Once upon a time, if I had rehearsal later in the day, I'd have that feeling all day, like a bouncy puppy, "OH BOY!  I get to REHEARSE a SHOW today!!!"  Now, most of the time, I just want the show to happen and not deal with the drudgery of rehearsal.  And then I'm at rehearsal and it's not drudgery at all, it's the best part of being alive, apart from being in the middle of a show while it's running and knowing it's going well.  I don't know how to get around this.  I know that I'll be fine when I get to rehearsal, but I can't feel it.  I just want it to go away.  It's just all DREAD.  Why has this happened to me?  Rehearsals are as fun as ever, why can't I feel that way in advance anymore?

So, Saturday we went to Central Park and read through the script with most of the cast -- Walter, Danny, Alyssa, Jessi, Christiaan, Maggie, and Roger.  Fred and Timothy couldn't make it, Berit and I took their parts and the as-yet uncast ones.  It was a beautiful day, and we found a moderately-secluded perch on some rocks.  I didn't give any direction to start -- I wanted to hear what came out naturally at a first cold reading.  It sounded good, for a beginning.  It runs shorter than I feared it might, thank god -- the final production will probably be 2 hrs. 10 min. with intermission, which is 20 min. shorter than I thought.  Maybe even less.  Great.

We had an occasional audience for bits and pieces of the reading, people walking by, as I figured would happen.  Wasn't as distracting as I feared, though I was amused and puzzled by the Asian gentleman who videotaped us for about ten minutes (I couldn't say for sure, of course, but yes, he and his friends came off as the exact stereotypes of "Japanese Tourists").  I was fairly clear in my head about what the show was "about" for me and this production before the reading, but didn't have the clear words to express it to others (does that make sense to you?  it's the truth).  During the reading words became more clear, and afterwards I talked a little bit about what this production of Temptation is trying to do.

It's all about two-facedness, masks, and lies, though ultimately Foustka's downfall isn't that he's a liar, but that he's a liar for two opposing sides -- it would be fine if he just lied in the service of one of them (well, no, but in the world of the play) -- but he won't pick a side and ultimately betrays both (and himself) by not committing, and is destroyed for it.  Of course, the heavy spectre of Communism hangs over the play, given when and where it was written, but the metaphor is wider and more universal than that -- I read that Charles Marowitz cut and rewrote the play to get rid of the "Communist country" overtones in his London production, but really that's not necessary.  Rather baby/bathwater, you ask me.

I was thinking of the documentary play by Daniel Kleinfeld that I acted in and designed (light/set), A Little Piece of the Sun, about the Chernobyl disaster and the Russian serial killer Andrei Chikatilo -- two stories combined, both about death caused by a country's/society's reliance on lies and deception.  Daniel lived in Russia (while it was still the Soviet Union?  don't remember . . .) and talked to me about discovering that it was a country where for years, in order to simply get by, everyone had to be a liar and a hustler.  And what does that do to the mindset of a country, of its people, when for years, merely in order to eat, to live, you have had to lie, cheat, and deceive all the time?

So I talked about this, and that EVERYONE in the play is a liar, on some level, or rather, many levels -- everyone has different false faces they are using with different characters throughout, and we have to work on making the levels clear to all of us.  Havel has been both very clear and very subtle in his language towards this end, and each nuance has to be thought about.  Many seemingly innocent lines have a hidden twist or sting in them.

There will be a "non-lie" style of acting that shows up in some brief scenes, where people are just bullshitting in the office, or two lovers, unguarded, are chatting in bed, but false faces go on all the time, and everybody knows it, knows everybody else's deceptions, but goes with it because they have their own.  I told Alyssa and Walter that in the scene where their characters are playacting with each other in a lovers' game, they should go so far in a certain direction that the audience should be wondering, just a bit, in the back of their heads, "Why are these two giving such bad performances in this scene?  They've been really good up till now" (which means not simply overacting, as the audience will "get" that this is a game between them immediately, but a specific kind of emoting without actorial skill, which can be difficult for good actors to pull off).

So, good reading Saturday.  Then, Sunday, same place (Central Park, not on rocks this time but in a sylvan glen), later in the day, same group minus Roger and Maggie but plus Timothy, another reading.  People had thought about what I said the day before and small changes, new modes of thought, were happening.  Timothy and Walter worked well in their scenes together, which are big and meaty parts of the play.  Still, good place to start, but just to start.  So much to do, to bring out.

Chance favors the prepared observer.  Right in the middle of one of Foustka's monologues -- in some ways, the most important one of the play, where he spells out most of its themes, dead center of the script -- there was the sound of fire trucks coming, louder and louder.  Walter went on with the speech, trying to talk over the sirens, but eventually the trucks passed directly by us on Central Park West, drowning out any and all sounds, blasting air horns, and Walter had to just stop and hold the speech until they went by.  They faded, and he continued, having kept his focus firmly on Timothy as Fistula the whole time.  The timing had been perfect, and I gave a little look and sly grin to Berit, who knew immediately what I was thinking, rolled her eyes and mouthed, "No!"  But it worked SO well . . . Christiaan saw that look and knows me, knew what I was thinking, and smiled and nodded (I think Danny did, too).  Yeah, Foustka should have that happen to him at that exact place in the final production.

I wish I had a window in the set I could use, cause really what should happen is that Foustka is giving the speech, softly and intently, the sirens start in the distance, he gets louder, the sirens get louder, he goes and closes the window, and goes back to taking softly, the sirens, though muffled, keep getting louder and louder, as does he, until the fire trucks are obviously passing right by Foustka's apartment, and he has to stop and wait for them to go, with his focus still on Fistula, sharp, laser focus.  A long pause for them to pass.  Then . . . onward as though nothing had happened.

Yeah, no window, but it'll be something like that.  Beautiful.  Oh, that'll be lovely.

Last night we rehearsed in a neat little affordable space on 36th Street run by John Chatterton.  Reminded me of the old Nada Piano Store rooms.  We staged the two garden scenes with Jessi, Walter, Danny, Fred, Alyssa, and Christiaan (missing Roger, Maggie, Timothy, and the uncast people).  Again, dread going in, productive fun work actually happening.  So, two scenes out of ten are now blocked -- as usual, we came in and I just ran through the first scene on my feet, no acting, no reading, just telling everybody where to go and when, line by line, and having them walk it.  Then we ran it, adjusting where necessary due to stuff not working or better actorial ideas.  Then we did the same on the second scene.  Three good hours work.  The actors are great, but then, they're people I know and like a great deal, and I know they'll walk in with 70-85% of what I want from them perfect straight out of the gate, so I'm really lucky that way.  And whenever they surprise me with bits of business, it's always good stuff.

Well, okay, not always, but mostly.  God, we have so much time, compared to most shows I've done, to work, and work, and work on the subtleties of the acting on this one.  Well, most often I don't do shows that need that much work in this way -- something I've got used to doing Off-Off-Bway, designing shows that don't need to be actorially micromanaged -- but this one does need it, and I'm glad I'll have the time for it.  I should have the whole show blocked by Sunday the 24th, then I have a month to the first full-cast run-thrus on October 24 to just focus on the acting (and, of course, my tech).

Outside our co-op I spotted some pieces of a bedroom set that someone was throwing out yesterday morning, and started debating whether to drag them inside to use on the set (in Vilma's apartment).  In particular, two pieces that were probably the sides of a vanity, with drawers below a shelf and vertical mirrors above that can be angled inward -- good for the endtables to Vilma's bed, where I can angle the mirrors to both catch the light to cover the actors sitting on the bed, and give the audience a second viewpoint on the actors.  But.  They were big, and not light, and there's very little room in the apartment.  Berit and I looked at them on the way to rehearsal last night, and thought about it some more.  Then, as we came home in the rain around 11.30, we took one more look -- they were now stacked up with the garbage to be picked up this morning.  Berit looked at them, and then at me, ruefully, "They really are great . . ."  And that was it, I brought them in, and they're jamming up our foyer now.  The rain did a number on them, but they're going to work wonderfully for the set (I kinda wish I brought in the matching headboard, but where the hell would I have put it?).

Now, I need to figure out where I can rehearse with Walter and Timothy on Sunday.  I can only afford to pay for rehearsal spaces for the larger, group rehearsals that need lots of space.  Luckily, I got a LOT more rehearsal time in the actual space than I anticipated, so that calmed my nerves a bit as far as the budget for the show went.  A bit.

I'm "seeing" the show more and more, and it's better and better than I thought it would be.  Moving more from a solid craftman's job, taken on to keep in practice, to a labor of love, as it needs to.