In two weeks' time, I begin work on a new project.
Well, it's an OLD project, but I've never done it before, so that makes it new.
CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF. By Tennessee Williams.
There's an underlay of excitement in the air; I've done a few plays for the organization called Dakota Stage, but this is my first directing job with them. And it's been a long time since I blew the whistle, if you know what I mean.
Eight years, I think.
It's gonna be nice to stretch the legs. I hope it works.
I have some benefits, of course; I know so few people around here, and I've worked with some and like them, but I don't have enough actual knowledge of the talent pool to know what's a GOOD thing and what's NOT. I don't have enough knowledge to pre-cast, and wouldn't want to, even if I did have the knowledge.
For a month now, the voices of the characters have been echoing in my head; lovely voices, moments of clarity and pace and agonizing pathos.
As Coquelin taught: You close your eyes and picture the character; the way he walks and the way he talks and the way he sits and eats and fights and loves. You give that image in your mind's eye the full measure of imagination and make him as real as you can. And then, you open your eyes and become him as much as possible.
I will have actors in like two weeks; and I will have a stage. And I will have a story to tell.