What Price Art? (Bloody Noses)

Goodness, where has the time gone?

Well, I suppose that's what happens when you are mounting a new play.  The final weeks pass by in a flurry of activity.  Barely a moment to catch one's breath.

This one, my heart-warming new fable, Teacup Tipsy, is no exception.  It began quietly enough.  As usual, a couple of designers had to drop out and be replaced.  Barely a ruffle there.  But, then, an actor dropped out when he abruptly lost his car and couldn't make it to rehearsals anymore.  So, he, too, had to be replaced, on the fly.  (That was a bit knuckle-gnawing.)

Nevertheless, after all that, we had managed to settle down into the routine of mounting a show.  Good, solid, work-a-day routine.  Over time, though, we noticed that our actor playing Man In The Box couldn't get his lines down.  Now, I should mention that this is the largest part I've ever written for any actor, anywhere.  It's huge.  It rivals Hamlet in size.  And scope.  Here's a sample...
Sweet-scented olive grove on hillside stood
In gentle climes of sun-strewn hues and balms
Where one may stroll, and sit, and olive chew
And spit the tangy pit to new grove grow
And garland said hillside’s dew with olives new.


I've often awakened in the middle of the night wondering if the part isn't simply too large.  Nevertheless, Greg, the actor I cast, had a great deal of heart and considerable focus.  I believed that he would make it.  The weeks in rehearsal coasted by until we approached that point in the rehearsal process that most actors dread: Off-book day.  That day that you may no longer use the script.  It's all in your head at that point or you're screwed.

Of course, most actors also understand that the real acting begins when you're off-book and not before.  So, while it's a painful transition, it's a necessary one in any production worth mounting.

Anyhoo, as we got closer to that day, Greg and I realized that for a number of reasons, he simply wouldn't be able to get there.  All the heart in the world wasn't going to make a damn bit of difference, either.  What to do?

Well [swallow hard], we'd have to replace him.  Which we did.  (He's currently pursuing Improv acting in Olympia; I'm giving him lots of advice and support as he establishes himself in that demanding field.)

So, now, here we are, the clock is ticking, and we need a new actor who can master an elephant-sized part in just forty-eight hours.  To whom did we turn?  You guessed it.  It took me every minute of those two days, costing three bloody noses from the sheer stress of it all (believe it or not).  I hope never to undergo such an experience again.  Whew!  Of course, after the elephant was, finally, swallowed, I didn't have to do it again.  But, still.

Of course, the story doesn't end there.  I knew that having taken on a role, I could no longer direct; it would hurt the show.  So, Manya stepped in.  She established authority in minutes (no easy thing on the stage) with her characteristically light touch and has led the cast through the polishing phase since.  Tonight is our cue-to-cue tech rehearsal, when the cast and the technical crew are put together for the first time, everyone wondering if this team of oxen will pull in the same direction.

(I can hear it right now. Steve G. is thinking to himself: That puts Manya in the driver's seat with a whip in her hand.  Hmmmm....)

Steve!

Thinking of all of this, I can't help but ponder the price of art and what we are willing to sacrifice in order to create beauty and meaning.

Wish us a broken leg!  Driftwood is fronting the cash on this one, so it plays by their rules.  One weekend only - this weekend, in fact - in a special engagement.  This Saturday (2 pm) and Sunday and Monday (7:30 pm).  Tickets ($10) to be had at 425.774.9600.

Manya Vee Selects, of course, is having its usual wine soiree, this time on Sunday night, at the gallery, immediately following the performance.

See you then!

Jeff