Thursday, September 13, 2012

Tedium does not mean boredom.

Blocking rehearsals are tedious.

But you have to do the steps, in the order they come; or your dance is going to be all f**ked up.

The memorization process always seems to be divided up into three phases:

Phase One:  The book is in your hand, and you're ocularly tied to it.
Phase Two:  The book is out of your hands, but you're still seeing it in your minds eye.
Phase Three:  You have completely integrated the action to the word and the word to the action.

Blocking rehearsals have always helped to me focus the line; and in some cases, created an interpretation I had not thought of before.

Case in point:  Way back in 199-, when I was a lad of plenty four, I was in a blocking rehearsal for Romeo and Juliet, which was being directed by some recently retired soap star.  Her rehearsal schedule was....shall we say....optimistic.  And she scheduled 30 minutes for the balcony scene.

One hour later, we were still at it; I couldn't find the hook.  There just seemed to be something so trite about it; so.....manufactured.  So....."done before."  You know what I mean?

And after an hour, I did what any red blooded American actor would do; I screamed in frustration and threw my script into the tenth row of the house.  I made it rain Shakespeare up in there.

And as the pages all went where they may, the thought occurred to me that would serve to get the damned thing blocked sixteen minutes later.

It wasn't the blocking that wasn't working.  Okay, YES IT WAS, because the director was trying to paint a picture without giving the actor the proper given circumstances. 

It was the PACE.  As the script landed in the tenth row of the house, the calcification that had been affecting my brain broke away and I remembered that Romeo is in the garden of his enemy, and if he gets caught, he is going to DIE.  So, he wouldn't be swooning, he would be attempting to close the deal.

And then, with small modifications, the blocking was re-worked and all was well.  And while I earned some respect that day, and learned a lesson myself about the necessity of thinking while working, the lovely director never stopped calling me "Jackass" for the rest of the run.

But she said it with affection.  I think.

Tonight, it was blocking a scene where I literally talk for three and a half pages.  And my friend Dan the Director had some preliminary ideas, and we played around for a little while, and then it all became clear, and I went to town.  And by the end, I'm racing around the stage, and dancing, and almost singing (and that may come later), which makes the end of the scene that much more poignant.

Tedium can sometimes provide insight, which invites creativity, which inspires action.

And for those moments, for those hours, I am alive.

I wish I could be alive alllll the time.

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