tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23475670881865522072024-03-12T20:36:42.097-07:00Jim's Richard III BlogWhat had started as a blog of Richard III rehearsal process at Cal Shakes has now evolved or devolved into a small novella. The author is petrified to change the name for fear it'll disappear, and wouldn't know what to call it anyway. Many stories are included and questions are even answered sometimes!James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-53040962819394861842018-10-16T11:11:00.004-07:002018-10-16T11:11:58.762-07:00ITS ALIVEHi there, whoever the heck you are.<br />
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It’s been almost 9 years since my last blog post. Wow. I’d tried to revive the thing but the google sign in process was such a pain I gave up in frustration. So why am I back?<br />
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A few days ago during our tech week of The Resting Place at The Magic Theatre in San Francisco one of our technicians asked me if I knew a certain individual. I said I thought I did but my bad memory with names is legend and wasn’t sure. He then mentioned the Ten Commandments of Show Biz and said he’d found it on my blog. I hadn’t realized the damn thing was still floating around in the ether along with billions of other bits of trivia, thought it inactive, that it had likely been nuked, swept away in Blogger housekeeping.<br />
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But no.<br />
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And so I tried once again to sign on and log and behold was able to access it once again. I’ve been dusting it off, dumping 9 years of spam postings and am on the threshold of posting brilliant thoughts about whatever. I think the link is still tied to Cal Shakes and I’m too cheap to buy my own domain name. I can barely keep up with technology.<br />
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So we’ll see. We’ll just see.James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-61672836780197622602009-05-17T10:26:00.000-07:002009-05-17T10:26:17.889-07:00Segue<div style="text-align: justify;">Well here I am, transitioning from BRT to Cal Shakes and seem on some level to be resisting the transition; I don't think its a resistance born out of negativity though, but rather it springs from that sense of impending departure, that sure and certain knowledge that very soon I will be leaving the cast of Lieutenant of Inishmore at BRT -- leaving behind a wonderful experience and group of people. I truly don't want to leave the show and it saddens me that I must.<br /><br />I'm not usually a sentimental actor when it comes to a show ending--perhaps some of this is due to my early rep experience; when a show was over you went on to the next one, many times with the same group of actors, so these feelings about Inishmore are a rare event to this crusty old salt. I thank the whole bunch of goobs -- crew, cast and director -- for making me laugh more than I have in ages, put this memory in my pocket and move on.<br /><br />So. Romeo and Juliet. Here I am. Again.<br />This is my 7th R & J, and I've played damn near everyone in the play by now.<br /><br />My first was in College, New Mexico State University, in Las Cruces. I got cast as Mercutio. I'd done 2 Shakespeares at most and had really no idea what I was saying -- I did know a good deal of it was rude and I remember being very clear on those particular passages, to the dismay of our rather proper director. I think all the dead people got up and danced at the end.<br /><br />My next production was in El Paso, Texas at the Chamizal Memorial Theatre, newly built to cement cultural ties between the US and Mexico. I'll attribute the demise of my teen homophobia entirely to this show as the entire male cast, with the exception of myself, was gay. They were totally nice to me when they could have been cruel and only once did I get my eyes widened by walking into the restroom and seeing more than one individual in the shower.<br /><br />The show was performed on a football shaped stage, raked at an angle of about 30 degrees. This is just about the angle that, were you aboard a ship in a raging ocean, the deck would tilt to just before you slid off it into the sea.......very difficult to work on. We had to use rosin to get a good grip.<br /><br />The director hated me. After my death at the hands of Romeo he had me lie on my back upstage<span style="font-style: italic;">. For</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">the rest of the play.</span> Yep. I became a set piece. Every one acted around me. I got so good at regulating my breathing I'd go into a sort of trance and would actually fall asleep. I <span style="font-style: italic;">tried</span> to listen, I tried to stay awake, but every night would get a boot in the ribs when my fellow actors would kick me to wake me for the curtain call. I don't think I ever snored.<br /><br />The next was in Sacramento, as Tybalt. Don't remember much about that one.........<br /><br />In 1982 I was cast as Mercutio at Oregon Shakespeare Festival; I remember we had to audition for the role (sometimes the roles are offered flat out) and had to duke it out with some of the big boys at the Festival to get the part. Kyle MacLachlan played Romeo (this was before he went to Hollywood) and was quite good. We had a terrific rapier dagger fight that wasat least 3 minutes long and was exhausting to perform, but oh my I was in great shape!<br /><br />The next three productions have been at Cal Shakes, once as The Prince, once as Montague, and in the current production, Juliet's father, Daddy Capulet; L. Peter Callender has played Capulet in the 2 previous productions--he was magnificent in the role, and I can't seem to get his voice out of my head................<br /><br />Help me.<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-9047114524807407932009-05-08T06:47:00.000-07:002009-05-08T06:52:59.873-07:00OF BLACK CATS AND OLD FRIENDS<div style="text-align: justify;">The Universe seems to have been prodding me in certain directions this year and now, through the devious workings of Dame Fortune, I find myself once more working with Berkeley Rep. It's been a few years since I've done a show here and it's always a huge pleasure to return. To top it off I get to portray Donny in Lieutenant of Inishmore, BRT's latest offering--a mad, hysterical, bloody good Irish play, and a feast for any Actor.<br /><br />To prepare for the role I've become thoroughly disreputable looking.<br /><br />I've allowed all the hair on my body to grow unchecked; I've put away the razor, the scissors, my tweezers, the battery-powered rotary nose hair trimmer bought by my wife (who now bleats at me from time to time mocking my goatish appearance) and now resemble someone you'd find on a late-night Sunday BART train.<br /><br />The rehearsal process of Lieutenant of Inishmore has been glorious fun for me; I'm not often cast in this character type and I don't often do roles that are purely or mostly comic in nature but I fell into it with an amazing ease and have laughed more in this short span than I have in years. Les Waters, our Director, would shake his head in delighted wonder and say "It's so stupid! And I laugh every time!"<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And it's all the more fun for it's excellent special effects -- guns, blood, exploding cats, various bladders which ooze, squirt and burst, and devices which blast various formulas and viscosity's of blood either away from you or at you. We have <span style="font-weight: bold;">Blood Mortars</span>.....I've never done a show with a blood mortar.....<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The term "Blood Mortar" was a little daunting to those of us who were to experience it's effects, but we were blessedly introduced to those effects early on in the process; our 3 Irish thugs all got life casts of their faces (which is an experience vaguely akin to being buried alive) before rehearsals started and Steve Tolin, our special effects man and super-hero, made frequent appearances explaining the way the bleeding bodies came apart, where blood packs would be and demonstrating the Gore Cannon on himself.<br /><br />Steve would stand in front of a 15' wall that had plastic sheeting affixed to a height of about 9' with himself duct-taped into a clear plastic skirt which covered his lower half but left torso and head exposed, and press a red button. The first time the mortar didn't fire. The second time there was a moose-like honk from the mortar and Steve was, in a microsecond, blasted in the face with a spray of blood which went a good 11' up the wall. It's tricky onstage--one person fires a gun and the other tries to trigger the cannon at exactly the same instant--ideally, the firing guns cover the "PHAARnnnk!" from the device.<br /><br />I must add a note of praise for our most excellent crew here--we could not do this show without their focus and expertise; they stand backstage before the scene 8-9 shift for a full minute with their eyes closed before rushing on in the blackout to strew blood, body parts and dismembering implements liberally across the stage as the actors are splashing themselves with stage blood in the dark--terrifying the first time I saw it, even with the lights up. But it's a testament to their skill that no one's been hurt and all elements are magically there every night. This same group then cleans up the 12 some gallons of blood, brains, body parts and sodden clothing every night after the show requiring an additional hour of cleanup and laundry. Many, many thanks to them.<br /><br />In the course of rehearsals and performance we have become one of those blessed events--a finely tuned, supportive cast and crew made up of fun, funny and talented people who all care for each other and work their uttermost to make the show succeed, making it all the harder for me to leave......<br /><br />Shortly after we opened Inishmore I started rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet at California Shakespeare Theatre but Inishmore has received such good press that its now extending--into my tech week for R & J, knocking me out of the extension week. My fellow actors are very professional about it--they'll go into rehearsals with the understudy who seems a fine man. Patrick. I hear he's terrific and to top it off, he's really Irish. The very least I can say is Thank you Les, Karen, and goodbye you bunch of Goobs; the most I could say would take far too long to write. I love yez and I'll miss yez. To Patrick I raise my glass and shout "Fill yer boots, Man!" I wish you joy in the role and people.<br /><br />For the curious, Bella, our show cat who plays Wee Thomas, has an understudy as well and she happens to belong to me, or rather, I to her; my plump, round and black as a cannonball Princess sits with me as I compose this blog/goodbye/note of thanks, her head stuffed deeply into my armpit, purring happily. She knows that I have "Bella sessions" and that I play string with other cats than herself yet has endured my consorting with other female black cats (and the practising of my lines by means of cooing into her ear in an Irish accent) with a certain studied disdain; she, I think, is not sorry I'll be leaving the show. And though she makes only the rare appearance -- usually in our neighbour's potted plants -- she's let me know in that certain way that felines will, that were SHE ever to go on for the other black kitty...................she would be bloody breathtaking. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-6598012486751919612008-11-17T14:22:00.000-08:002008-11-17T15:39:36.789-08:00The Scrooge Chronicles<div style="text-align: justify;">The last time I blogged anything was opening night of Uncle Vanya at Cal Shakes. I've done Rock N Roll at ACT since then, and am now a week into rehearsals for A Christmas Carol (also at ACT) reprising the role of Scrooge. Three months of not writing....Why? I don't know exactly. <br /><br />Both Vanya and R N R were great experiences with wonderful casts--I didn't like the character I'd created in Vanya (like everyone in that fictional household I found ways of coping with him) but enjoyed the hell out of the truly despicable party functionary I found in Rock N Roll. Bad guys are fun! After we closed Rock N Roll at ACT the show went on to Boston for a run at the Huntington Theatre but left behind 3 cast members -- Nick Pelczar, Natalie Hegg (both students at the Conservatory) and myself, all 3 of us now rehearsing Christmas Carol. At the closing night celebration in Fred's Lounge at ACT I felt as if I were standing on a dock somewhere waving my hankie at a ship sailing off over a darkening ocean. Bon Voyage, y'all. They've opened now, and are doing well. I send them a rude card from time to time.<br /><br />And now I have a whole new batch of young goobers to break in as Scrooge, little ones and students, and it brings with it a new set of joys and makes my Carol "family" just a little larger. Some of the young ones are back, some kids entirely new to the experience and I've twice found kids who were in the show previous years wistfully waiting outside the building. Quite touching. And again I've at least 30 new names to memorize and I'm dreadful at names, truly pathetic--I have to study.<br /><br />But even though I have to get in shape for the role--go into training for it really, it definitely has payoffs; yesterday we had our first run-through and I went full out, no holding back, full performance energy and found myself totally pooped, and drenched at plays end. We took a break before our note session and I toweled off, got back into street clothes and plopped into a corner to rest.<br /><br />As I sat there one of the little girls in the cast--a tomboy-ish one who ties her long hair back--came racing up to me, stuffed a tiny piece of paper into my hand, and said "You need to read this!" and ran off giggling. I unclasped my hand and found there a fortune from the interior of a fortune cookie; it read:<br /><br />"Don't worry about the Stock Market. Invest in family."<br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-83269698764930791472008-08-09T13:30:00.000-07:002008-08-09T13:35:28.151-07:00Shorthand<div style="text-align: justify;">Opening Night day. Awoke at 8:01 with help from the cat. Must have coffee. Must buy cards. Must re-read Rock N Roll. Will start rehearsals on Monday. No days off for a month. Looks like a good day weather-wise. Not taking any bets Theatre-wise. No beard trauma last night.<br /><br />Cross your fingers.<br /><br />Merde!<br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-24678316895619549382008-08-08T14:32:00.000-07:002008-08-08T14:42:02.214-07:00A Bad Hair Day<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />OK. Something is weird in my Universe.<br /><br />The past 3 nights I've gone to bed very tired and very late. This morning I awoke, moaned quietly, rolled over, looked at the clock and saw its little beady LED eyes blinking <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> the same time as it has the previous two mornings.<br /><br />7:49 AM<br /><br />I've also had some, shall we say alarmingly vivid, erotic dreams and while I am not opposed to erotic dreaming in any fashion, these seem rather Chekhovian in nature......actually life in general seems to bear a faint tint of Chekhov for me these days; a sort of double vision, everything seems quite serious and somehow farcical at the same time. I won't go into the details of my dream eroticism but suffice it to say, it's fairly ridiculous..............<br /><br />We finished the tech process Tuesday evening, had our first two previews Wednesday and Thursday and will have our 3rd tonight. The first show was largely uneventful with laughs in unexpected places and last night we had a full house with a lovely audience..............BUT........my beard came off.<br /><br />Yep, right at the beginning of my big scene in the 3rd act--the one that has the speech that still gives me that "deer in the headlights" kind of feeling. I'm the deer. The deer with the beard. A magnificent Patriarchal full beard built for me (I couldn't grow one like this without a good head start) and glued on with the old standby Spirit Gum, applied and aligned by yours truly.<br /><br />Now I thought that sucker was on--I even gave a cursory inspection--seemed fine, but no sooner had I gotten 5 lines out of my mouth than I got a sudden and distinct sensation of non- adhesion. This was not a good thing--I had a major speech coming up and an argument with Vanya (the inestimable Dan Hyatt) and the last thing I wanted was the audience to be staring at my beard and taking bets on when my little furry would at last topple from my face instead of listening to what was being said.<br /><br />So I changed my blocking, or rather wound up keeping my right bearded side facing the audience as much as possible, and when I absolutely had to face stage right would do so while scratching my temple and holding my beard pressed in place with my palm to mask it.<br /><br />Clever, no? A little sleight of beard.<br /><br />I was met on my brief exit by Howard Swain with spirit gum in had, tacked the damn thing down again, blotted the glue and walked back on.<br /><br />Ta-Da!<br /><br />Coming up: Will Jim wake at 7:49 again? Stay tuned.<br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-29896632608173586702008-08-05T17:15:00.000-07:002008-08-05T17:19:06.911-07:00The Rakes Progress<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">It's been warm out at the Bruns during our last 4 days of Tech; our first evening was chilly, the next two sublime, and we finished out the week on Sunday with another brisk evening.<br /><br />We've actually been able to do some work on scenes between the cracks of working on lighting and sound cues but didn't run the show till last night. Oddly my performance was better in the full sun with no costumes, sound or lights.......I hate it when that happens.<br /><br />I find myself stumbling on internal adjustments; at the top of Chekhov's act 2 the Professor and his wife are revealed onstage asleep in their chairs--his gout has been troubling him, the pain keeping him from sleep and as a consequence he's kept the entire household awake tending to him.<br /><br />But we have no curtain, hence no reveal; this means that I have to limp onstage through many bustling people who are shifting scenery and moving furniture, plop myself down, read a bit, fall asleep and then get startled awake and at present I've barely time to get to my chair and let my head drop before I suddenly jolt awake; the actress playing my wife has a full costume change (she's in the final scene in act 1) and barely makes it on in time.<br /><br />This feels odd--we both go from a brief burst of energetic motion to a moment of stasis and I at least have not made my peace with the moment--it feels as if the audience is supposed to witness that silence and non activity for some time -- this is not criticism mind you, but more in the nature of dealing with the peculiarities of this particular set; I'm sure we'll find a happy medium. </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">The raked stage has added a few challenges but as proved fairly easy to deal with--the cast had a session with a physical therapist who gave us a full range of stretches and provided exercise balls and foam rollers to help counteract whatever adverse affects we might be feeling from the rake and we've put them to good use; I've had to do much work on my ankle (the one I sprained in Richard III last year) and am using my brace.<br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-87860409220030668642008-08-01T21:12:00.000-07:002008-08-01T21:16:38.085-07:00Tech Week List-Shaving cream & razor<br />-Makeup & brushes<br />-Soap<br />-Contact lenses and solution<br />-Toothbrush and toothpaste<br />-Goopydoo hair gel<br />-Sunblock x50<br />-Sunglasses<br />-Ratty white shirt<br />-Dad's old cowboy hat<br />-Shorts<br />-Thermal socks<br />-Long underwear<br />-Shakespeare Santa Cruz sweatshirt<br />-Parka<br />-Ankle brace and exercise bands<br />-A decent book<br />-Reading glasses<br />-Bottle of Scotch (post show use only)<br />-Frozen taquitos<br />-Triscits and spinach dipJames Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-47121875518048291592008-07-31T11:29:00.000-07:002008-07-31T11:30:57.224-07:00BBbppprrrrptt!<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />So here I am, ostensibly blogging for Cal Shakes, I'm 3 weeks into the rehearsal process of Uncle Vanya, and have not blogged one single letter of the process................<br /><br />Why is that? Well, hard to explain.<br /><br />Excuse # 1. I fear Chekhov. Yes, I've a bad case of Chekhovphobia; I can't always sense on reading his plays just how they function--it's only in rehearsal, that I begin to see the dynamics of what the author may have intended. So, happily here is a cure for my phobia--I just have to do it. It does, however, lead to some hesitancy on my part on blogging the process. Apologies. And many thanks to Timothy Near, our director, who has helped immensely with my therapy.<br /><br />Excuse # 2. The role of Professor Serebryakov is a great role, a pivotal one, but he's got one line in act 1, a big scene in act 2 with his wife (others come in later at which point he leaves), a big scene in act 3, and a small scene in 4. As a consequence I've been called in to rehearse for a few hours here, a few there and have only a faint overview of the show as a whole and little interaction with the other actors on stage.<br /><br />It's odd when this happens--you're cast in a role in which you have little to do, or one in which you interact only with a few people in the production and as a result feel almost that you're in another play. Which is arguably as it should be with this character--he does feel apart, out of his element and alienated.<br /><br />Excuse # 3. I hate my character. Not the role mind you, but the the man that Chekhov has limned so acutely. He's spoiled, arrogant, selfish, and conceited; he looks down on all the others and has no tolerance or understanding of their lives and the challenges they face. I've known real people like this and I didn't like <span style="font-style: italic;">them</span> either.<br /><br />Thankfully though, I once played a character which I found to be thoroughly disagreeable and on expressing my feelings to another actor was told "Well then, you'll probably never be any good at it, will you?", so I have a prior lesson to go by on that excuse, and while I'll probably never ever love this man, I will find a way to tolerate him, at the least.<br /><br />Excuse # 4. This is a rough one--Many times actors are required to perform in roles that are out of their experiential realm. We have to find ways of accessing those same feelings, perhaps finding experiences in our own lives which engender parallel emotions. I'm playing an older man than myself, one who has health problems and who fears death and stultification. This has caused me to explore some of my own fears so I can perform the role and it's put me in a bit of a dark spot. Apologies again. I'm better now.<br /><br />Doing Chekhov seems to have affected my dream life as well; one of my more notable dream sequences had me afflicted with a bout of uncontrollable flatulence--and not just occasional mind you, but a muted continuous "Bbbbrrrrrpppppppttt" which varied in pitch up and down the musical scale and which followed me wherever I went, sometimes stressed in tempo with my footsteps. <br /><br />It would occasionally cease when I came to rest to pour myself a cup of coffee, say, and would be accompanied by a long Chekhovian pause by cast and crew who breathlessly awaited to see if Jim's farting spell had <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> abated. I knew they were waiting. They knew I knew, but were feigning nonchalance. The air would still and silence reign as I slowly stirred in my sugar and half half, silently, fervently praying for no resumption of intestinal volcanism. And breaths would expel in unison, life unpause and begin anew--albeit with some grumbling on the part of the others ("When is he going to <span style="font-weight: bold;">stop</span>?") -- as I strolled away pooting helplessly, apologetically.<br /><br />I don't think I want to know what that one means.<br /><br />Coming up: Hysterical Chekhov stories!<br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-53816555210635671872008-05-17T08:32:00.000-07:002008-05-17T08:34:48.820-07:00Breaking It Down<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />We had a note session the day after our first-half run--Carey was not displeased, I think and I think she's spot on; the show has a good solid footing and the choices being made aren't passive ones. One of her notes to me was to make Richardetto more serious in his guise as the Doctor, and though I didn't say anything at the time it felt wrong, even though she's absolutely correct in her perception that something vocally has to be different with him and that that difference is currently lacking.<br /><br />Why did it feel so wrong to me?<br /><br />Break it down, Jim.<br /><br />Richardetto has no previous scene before we see him in disguise, no scene in which we see him before his world was turned upside down by an unfaithful wife; and no mention of their relationship, none of children, zippo. So perhaps the question to ask is not who is this man, but who <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> he? Let's get in the Way Back Machine......<br /><br />At the time this play was written (early 1600's) the sciences were just beginning to evolve in Europe--Chemistry emerged gradually from Alchemy; Astronomy, Biology, Anatomy and Medicine were beginning to form into more exact sciences largely through experimentation by wealthy/titled men many of whom began their explorations as hobbies. Gradually these various intellectuals formed organizations such as the Royal Academy in England--experimentation began, observations were made, notes taken, papers written and the Sciences were born. In a nutshell.<br /><br />These are my givens: A noble, learned man married to a lusty, passionate woman, who is perhaps not having the passion returned to the same degree; she may have loved him but has allowed herself to be lured away from her husband with false promises of love and marriage--a couple who've been married for sometime (I can't tell how long) and who seem to be childless. The man is a sober, well respected member of the community--and I think it buys me more, gives me more fuel if he <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> love her though he may not have known quite how to tell her and it likely had some aspect of ownership to it. Women were pretty much chattel and most marriages were arranged at this time -- it was business and love was a bonus. I think theirs is a 400 year old dysfunctional relationship. This is my starting point--Richardetto Ground Zero.<br /><br />It suits my purposes as far as "character logic" goes to imagine him an emotionally distant man and to imagine him one of those early scientists--he pulls off pretending he's a doctor and does it well enough to garner a reputation for himself and be engaged by at least two men of status during the course of the play. And he seems to know about poison.............<br /><br />Next, I looked at the language in my first two scenes; In the first, before the audience knows I'm in disguise the sounds are very different from the second; in the first scene (as Doctor) round, open vowels abound and there's a more relaxed feel to his language--in the second when I'm alone with my niece and it's revealed who I really am and what my purpose is the language is sibilant to the point of being nearly reptilian. His first line "Thou seest, my lovely niece, these strange mishaps--how all my fortune's turn to my disgrace, wherein I am but as a looker-on whiles others act my shame and I am silent." feels practically spat out, hissed.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This</span> is why Carey's note felt wrong I think--the man is dead serious already (he's faked his own death to come back and watch, come back for revenge), so the vocal part of his disguise feels as if it should be more of a polar opposite; heartier, more relaxed, warmer--let's say he's got a good bedside manner. Carey sounded very open to it today when I sounded her out about it and laid out my logic--now I just have to <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> it well....<br /><br />But at least I'm making choices; I had a minor stroke of inspiration in act 5; when Susan Gibney was reading her dying speech after being poisoned (Am I giving <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span> away? Plenty of surprises left, folks) her final two words are "O--O!" Then she croaks. And I thought to myself "Now, why in the hell would I just stand here and gasp along with everyone else at the party?" This was a woman I'd loved, bedded, been intimate with-- she's a source of deep pain--she's property stolen, a source of public shame, and violent, conflicting emotion. I couldn't just stand there, could I? And then I remembered--<br /><br />"Hey, I'm a Doctor.................."<br /><br />I had a professional reason to go to her -- a public rationale for doing it. Perfectly in keeping.<br /><br />And now when she reaches the end of her life's final speech I cross to her, and lift her head; she looks straight into my eyes and for the tinniest second sees the loyal husband she thought dead.<br /><br />"O--O!"<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-14278395951545550282008-05-14T06:40:00.000-07:002008-05-14T07:53:09.325-07:00Thinking Out Loud<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />And now back to the Present.<br /><br />I've wallowed in the mudpits of memory long enough and should for the sake of decorum at least blog something about my current rehearsal process. The scene? Second week of Tis Pity She's A Whore rehearsals at ACT.<br /><br />We finished roughing out the first half of the show yesterday and after reaching the intermission break ran the entire first act--a crawl through if you will-- though the show, even with most of us still with script in hand, moves like a bullet.<br /><br />This is when you get the first taste of what the finished production is going to be; a wavery outline of the beast, a sense of the chemistry at work between the actors and the arc of the piece as a whole. Going by what I saw yesterday I think this one's going to rock.<br /><br />Carey has put together a fantastic cast, all with great instincts, all smart actors, and all hungry to make true choices--don't miss this one. And I'd forgotten what a great play it is!<br /><br />As for myself, I'm struggling with Ricardetto and am going slowly--a little too slowly for Ms. P at times I think, but this is not a role that I instinctually hook into. Who is this man?<br /><br />He's of very high status--the husband of Hippolita (also noble) who has come to the knowledge that his wife is having an affair with a young nobleman (Soranzo); urged on by his wife, he's taken a journey to Ligourne to get his niece and and while on the trip has died.<br /><br />But he's not really dead.<br /><br />He comes back, with niece in tow disguised as a Doctor of Medicine and sets up practice in Parma with no other purpose it seems than: "Now would I see with what an impudence she gives scope to her loose adultery and how the common voice allows hereof."<br /><br />He's been watching her. Creepy. And he doesn't seem to have a definite plan of action until Grimaldi comes to him for a love potion so he can woo Annabella successfully; he tells Grimaldi he has no chance to win her love until a bar is first removed between them and that bar is? You guessed it--Soranzo. He's jumped on this chance in the moment and found a tool to remove someone who's publicly cuckolded him and tells Grimaldi he will provide a poison to eliminate his rival and Grimaldi agrees.<br /><br />The man is burning inside; his first speech is full of sibilance, ess's and cee's and zee's abound--he may as well be hissing his words through his teeth--and yet while still on fire, he at least outwardly cares for his niece to see her married off to someone she loves. He seems to have many motives at once, many masks, and I'm as yet uncertain which he's wearing.<br /><br />A toughie, this one.<br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-82271298072123333972008-05-12T08:19:00.000-07:002008-05-12T08:24:47.773-07:00Chinese Peanuts<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />On one of my Mondays off during the rehearsal period of M. Butterfly, I'd wandered the streets of Portland, done some exploring, tried to find projects to keep my sanity while out of town, treated myself to a nice meal at a decent restaurant, caught a film and eventually, late in the evening, I headed back to my grungy hotel room.<br /><br />I stepped out of the 4th floor elevator only to have my nostrils greeted with a bouquet of delicious aromas which I realized were emanating from the room of Man Wong and even though I was still fairly full from my previous meal, the scent drew me towards the door and through said door I heard voices raised in animated conversation. I knocked. The door opened.<br /><br />"Djim!" Man Wong greeted me "Come een, come een!"<br />"Wow, what are you cooking Man?" I asked entering the room "It smells terriffic!"<br />"Chicken!" he replied "My espessiu chicken! I'm cook een Chinese restaurant een New York! Come eat, come eat!"<br />"No really I couldn't Man, thanks--I ate a pretty big meal not too long ago and I'm still pretty full." I protested even while being marched politely toward the table where sat Luyong Wang with a bottle of sake in front of him.<br /><br />But my protests grew more feeble the more my nose sampled and soon a full plate was placed in front of me, a cup of sake to one side and I, to my own amazement, cleared the entire plate of food in very short order--his chicken was indeed <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> special--and finally, well nigh paralyzed from the meal, I sat back, paid my deep compliments to the chef and we all began to chat and sip sake.<br /><br />Now they had a good head start on me in the sake department but made sure I caught up with them and soon we were all slurring our words on a fairly equal basis as we began to talk about the show. Luyoung was playing the female lead with whom a French diplomat falls in love and has a lasting affair even after discovering she's in reality a man; he was quite astonishing in his portrayal and as for Man Wong he not only took part in all the Opera sequences, but was Luyoung's understudy as well and had memorized all of his blocking and lines. He didn't quite <span style="font-style: italic;">understand</span> all of them as yet though..... After a fair amount of talk and imbibing of sake Man leaned forward, raised one index finger and said blearily: "Djim? I hab a question for you."<br /><br />"Sure Man, what is it?" I responded.<br /><br />"Why inna pray do dey caw a man's vageena a peanut?"<br /><br />"What?" I asked, confused--I got the first part of his question but my alcohol infused brain wasn't translating the rest quite as well and thought I'd misheard him.<br />"Why do they <span style="font-style: italic;">what</span>, Man?"<br /><br />"Why, eena pray do dey caw a man's vageena a peanut?"<br /><br />I looked questioningly at Luyoung just as Luyoung, equally puzzled, turned to me--and then comprehension dawned on us both at exactly the same instant, our eyes widened, and we quickly turned away from each other before we howled with laughter and offended Man or hurt his feelings. There was a pause as we regained our composure. I took a deep breath...........<br /><br />"Ahhhmm--Man I think maybe you misheard the line--in the play they call it a <span style="font-style: italic;">penis</span>."<br />"Yah, a peanut! Why they caw a man's vageena a peanut?"<br /><br />It was getting harder and harder to keep a straight face.<br /><br />"No, the word is pronounced peeee-<span style="font-style: italic;">niss</span>, Man." I said feebly.<br />"Peee-niiaahh-t?" he queried. By this time I could barely talk and Luyoung, even though he too was struggling, began to assist me in his cultured tones.<br />"Peeeee-<span style="font-style: italic;">niiiss, </span><span>peee</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-niiis, </span>Man.<span style="font-style: italic;">" </span>he coached helpfully.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span><span>Peeeeeeeee</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-naaaaaahhhhhh-</span><span>t</span><span style="font-style: italic;">." </span>He almost had it but that "T" was killing me. I tried again.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span>No T, Man, no T--and you're saying UH like in "up" -- it's <span style="font-style: italic;">isssss </span>like in the word "if"."<br /><br />"Peee--nifff?" he asked looking very confused.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span>No,no,no--say it with me slowly--peeee." And he and Luyong both very solemnly (though Luyoung had a definite gleam in his eyes) repeated "PEEeeeeeeeeeee".<br />"Now, NIIIiiiiihhhh." I said slowly, and both in unison responded with a long drawn out "NIIiiiiiihhhh."<br />"Now, ssssssssss." And the duo returned my "Ssssss".<br />"Now put it all together slowly; peee--niihhh--sss." and both dutifully repeated "Pee-niihh-sss."<br />"Good. Put the stress on pee, now and run all those sounds together."<br /><br />My final lasting impression of the evening, and one I will always treasure, is of three sodden friends full of food and sake sitting at the table chanting in unison in our different accents, but chanting successfully --<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Pe</span>nis! <span style="font-style: italic;">Pe</span>nis <span style="font-style: italic;">Pe</span>nis!"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-37539872139050224642008-05-11T01:30:00.000-07:002008-05-11T14:42:33.103-07:00Teach Me Stuff<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />As long as I'm on the topic I'll tell some more stories about that production of M. Butterfly and the lovely people in it; it gave me a window into another culture--it's people, theatre and language and I have many memories of it.<br /><br />We were about 2 1/2 weeks into rehearsal by this time and I'd not only become friends with the Chinese cast members, but was giving all of them English lessons of some kind--Luyoung mostly just with inflections of words and how they informed the sense of what was said in English and I helped Man out with his grammar. Ding was another matter; he was the eldest, about 48, and spoke next to no English--the two others coached him and taught him some words but it was difficult for him to form sentences or even words sometimes.<br /><br />I realized how much I'd taken language and the ability to use it for granted and found myself wondering how terribly helpless it must have made someone like Ding feel and when Man asked me on his behalf if I would help him speak English I agreed. And somewhat reluctantly I confess--I couldn't diagram a sentence if you asked me to, but I was equipped to at least help him with conversational English.<br /><br />So we made a trade--the would allow me to do warm-ups with them every morning and then I would teach them later in the day.<br /><br />Now these guys had been in training since they were about 8 years old.......<br />We'd start the day with stretches, they would practice some of their dance moves--some of which I learned (and all I have forgotten) but there would reach a point in the warm-up that I'd just have to sit back and watch as Man would practice his back flips--doing 15 or so in the same spot and then move across the room still flipping. I still have a photo of him with a perfectly composed expression on his face, arms crossed -- which in itself is not unusual other than the fact that he's almost 4 feet in the air with both legs out in a complete split. Even though they went easy on me I could hardly walk the next day.<br /><br />Oddly though, Ding never participated in these sessions, and one day I jokingly asked him as he watched us with arms folded, "Ding aren't you going to warm up?" He smiled, thought a bit and carefully said, "Don' haff to." and he was right--he didn't--he would go on cold and be perfect every night in those intricate Opera sequences. Amazing.<br /><br />Ding was my toughest pupil, not because he was a bad student but because I had to teach him how to make some of the sounds themselves<span style="font-style: italic;">--</span>the Chinese language is created very much in the middle of the mouth while English is much more forward and some of the sounds we use simply don't <span style="font-style: italic;">exist</span> in Chinese--Ding had a hard time with the letter "T" and "Th" sounds were very difficult; he initially would thrust his entire tongue out of his mouth and I would have to carefully illustrate where tongue placement was for certain sounds.<br /><br />But we progressed to the point that we could actually talk--very simply at first, but we talked. I'd begin by asking him what he did that day, and Man Wong would be on hand if there was something he didn't understand. He'd reply and I'd correct his syntax or word, have him say it again and keep talking.<br /><br />After awhile they started calling me "Teacher" and even though I protested would address me very formally by that name. They were quite firm about it, insisted on it in fact, and so I found myself reluctantly but graciously accepting the title. Teachu Djim.<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-84970266279789617982008-05-09T10:20:00.000-07:002008-05-09T22:24:34.452-07:00!@$##!^^#!<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />O.M.G. Hilda! How could I have forgotten?<br /><br />I promised Hilda this story last year, and I actually don't know if she's reading this any longer, but I'm telling it anyway, dammit.<br /><br />So.....<br /><br />Once upon a time I was doing a production of M. Butterfly in Portland, Oregon and our cast featured 3 incredible performers from mainland China; they had all trained in or were part of The Pei king Opera and had jumped ship in the United States. The eldest, Ding Mei Kwei, was married to a Superstar of Chinese Opera, Qi Shu Fang, and spoke almost no English, the next was Luyoung Wang who played one of the leading roles, spoke excellent English and taught at an American University--he had problems with inflection sometimes and asked me to coach him on his lines, and finally Man Wong his understudy, who spoke English well enough to get by, but his grammar was often off, and he was deeply conscious of his deficit as far as contemporary phrases go.<br /><br />One day Man, who was an elfin young man with a lovely sunny personality, approached me on break in rehearsal and said (and forgive the attempt at recreating his dialect)<br /><br />"Djim? I want you teach me durty word."<br /><br />"What?" I said, thinking I'd misunderstood him.<br />"I want you teach me durty word."<br />"Uh, well, OK Man, ummm....why?"<br />"Wew, een New Yok I dribe a cab, and peepo yewl <span style="font-style: italic;">durty</span> thing at me sometime and I only speek Chinese, so I want to learn dirty word to yewl back at dem."<br /><br />Now this was not only hysterical but charming as well, and while I was more than equipped to teach him some phrases, I also didn't want to be responsible for him getting shot. I had visions of him careening around New York screaming curse words out of the window of his cab and rummaged around in the attic of my mind to find something suitably harmless that would allow him some relief and allow me to live with myself.<br /><br />"OK Man, here's one--You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny!"<br /><br />Man took out his script, a pen, and very studiously wrote into it: You Ukly And You Mama Dress You Funny. "OK, wha ewse?" he asked attentively............<br /><br />He wanted more, and I realized to my dismay that when cornered like this I could think of nothing other than variations on the B, C and F words and for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to teach him those--it just didn't fit with his disposition. "Your Mother wears combat Boots!" I blurted out, and again the writing in the script --You Mama Wear Comba Boot. And just to round out his Lexicon of contemporary American phrases I tossed in Far OUT, Cool and Bitchin'--all slang from my boyhood, and all copied studiously into his script.<br /><br />The next day Man walked up to Phil, our director, and yelled out "Hey Fiw! Faaar BACK!" Thankfully, he did <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> inform the director that he was ugly and his mother dressed him funny.<br /><br />And I confess that sadly, I picked up very little Chinese in return and have no real defense for myself--the only phrase I can remember to date is (and I'm spelling phonetically here) "Fong Pi"<br /><br />Who farted?<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-40140716245150900802008-05-09T08:51:00.000-07:002008-05-09T09:02:31.064-07:00Revenge<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The first day of rehearsal and the bastards have already stabbed me in the back.<br /><br />I had a 9:45 fitting (woof) for my costume on Monday which turned out to be very brief--it's a period costume and resembles a big puffy sleeved sack. With a cap. And tights. Tights. Haven't worn them in a while.<br /><br />I then plowed back thru the crowd to ACT's main office and rehearsal hall where the Equity cast meeting was already going on--this is when the Equity actors vote on the span of day, with either an 8 hr. rehearsal and a minimum 1 hr. break, or a straight 6 hr. with a 20 minute break in the middle. All "management" types, (the Director and others) and non Equity actors must leave the room, the ballots are cast and then the Equity Deputy is elected.<br /><br />Now being the Deputy for a show is an honor but can be a curse as well depending on the organization you're working for, the cast temperament, and your working conditions. They deal with a variety of issues, safety ranking high on the list.<br /><br />So while walking back to the offices after my fitting I was thinking "Gee, I haven't volunteered to be Deputy in awhile--I should do that." only to walk into the rehearsal room where the Equity session was in progress and get handed a packet of deputy materials.......<br /><br />They'd elected me in absentia. Bastards. <br /><br />And of course the evil Jack Willis was at the heart of it. Jack, Black Jack had nominated me, Judd Williford most likely seconded, and the rest filled in with heartfelt glee.<br /><br />It's clear that we're dealing with professional actors--seasoned veterans who know how to toss a potato, and though I take the title of Deputy Jim on with equanimity, calm and poise I have to say that in the spirit of the play,<br /><br />I'll be Revenged.<br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-86620989312173927762008-05-05T07:37:00.000-07:002008-05-05T07:52:25.204-07:00'Tis Pity<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Today's the first day of rehearsals for 'Tis Pity She's A Whore at ACT, so I thought I'd get the first thoughts about it in now as life may get in the way of blogging later.<br /><br />It's a cheery little piece, A Jacobean Revenge Tragedy written by John Ford which was published in 1633 and first performed I find, by Queen Henriatta's Men sometimes called the Queen Majesty's Comedians, or other variations of that name. (Thank you Wikipedia.) It's a twisted Romeo and Juliet (published in 1597) about a brother and sister who fall in love, have a child and watch the world go to hell; it has some beautiful language and wonderful scenes and will be directed by the talented La Perloff herself.<br /><br />It'll be the second time I've done the show--the first time was Ashland in 1981, and it was a bit of an accident that I got in the cast at all.<br /><br />I'd been cast in Two Gentlemen of Verona on the outdoor stage which conflicted with Tis Pity playing inside in the Angus Bowmer. The show featured Joe Vincent and Barry Kraft in the two leads whilst I filled out the roles of "Presenter" and "Forest Creature"........... Now if you look in the text you'll see neither of those roles are actually listed in the cast--that's because the Director made them up.<br /><br />Yes......This was one of <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> Productions. One of those concept shows, one in which the director had all the characters <span style="font-style: italic;">represent</span> something and stand for those qualities in an abstract way--Sir Eglamor was Chivalry for instance, the maid was Loyalty, the blah was this and the did-de-blah was that. Oh, what a stinker. The capper was when an old friend of mine, James Avery (he played the Uncle on Fresh Prince of Bel Aire--a fine actor) who is easily 6'4 and weighed around 300 lbs., got cast in the roles of the Innkeeper and The Road. Look in the cast list again. Not there is it? Now, Avery was not happy about this casting and I can't say that I blame him--not a lot of acting choices to be made as The Road. But being a pro he did his damn job like it or not.<br /><br />How does one <span style="font-style: italic;">act</span> a road, I'll just bet you're asking. And mere acting challenges aside, how does the <span style="font-style: italic;">audience</span> know you're supposed to be a road?<br /><br />You give him a cape, silly.<br /><br />You give him a big ass cape, with a road and trees and bushes and coaches and people and houses and horses and dogs painted on it and you have him walk <span style="font-style: italic;">ever</span> so slowly across the stage with it, but Oh Martha, being a cape it lies <span>flat</span> so you need people to hold it <span style="font-style: italic;">sideways</span>, and being a <span style="font-style: italic;">Road</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Cape</span> and necessarily large, say 30 plus feet, you need <span style="font-style: italic;">several</span> people to hold it sideways. The final effect?<br /><br />A Large Grumpy Black Man with a huge painted drapery thingy affixed to his neck and threatening to strangle him entering from stage right whilst several nameless others struggled to unfurl the whatever it was that was dragging behind him as he walked slowly from stage right to stage left throwing occasional glares toward the audience and Director. I couldn't watch his entrance, or if I did I had to cover my mouth so I didn't snark or make odd noises thru my nose.<br /><br />I was luckier. My succor came in the form of Jerry Turner, the Artistic Director of Ashland, who approached me after our first preview and growled out something akin to "How'd you like to get out of this piece of crap?"<br /><br />I don't remember if I actually <span style="font-style: italic;">kissed</span> his shoes, but I do have a distinct memory of falling to my knees........<br /><br />One of the cast members of Tis Pity (his show) had dropped out due to another offer in New York and Jerry decided to let me have a go at it. The role was Soranzo, Annabella's suitor, and later jealous husband and I had precious little time to learn it and about 5 onstage rehearsals, but I damn well did. Anything to get out of being a Forest Creature.<br /><br />But there were repercussions; the cast of Two Gents didn't speak to me for about 2 weeks, and I inherited one of the smelliest costumes I've ever had the displeasure to wear--wardrobe was unable to dispel it. But it could've been worse.<br /><br />I could've been a Road.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-22735069002023948332008-05-01T10:38:00.000-07:002008-05-01T10:50:22.688-07:00Hamlet's Cat's SoliloquyI found this tucked away in some odd corner of my computer.<br />And though I didn't write it, this is my cats favorite piece of literature:<br /> <br /> To go outside, and there perchance to stay<br /> Or to remain within: that is the question:<br /> Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer<br /> The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather<br /> That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,<br /> Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,<br /> And so by dozing melt the solid hours<br /> That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time<br /> And stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stare<br /> Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state<br /> A wish to venture forth without delay,<br /> Then when the portal's opened up, to stand<br /> As if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep;<br /> To choose not knowing when we may once more<br /> Our re-admittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;<br /> For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob,<br /> Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,<br /> And going out and coming in were made<br /> As simple as the breaking of a bowl,<br /> What cat would bear the household's petty plagues,<br /> The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,<br /> The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,<br /> The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks<br /> That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,<br /> He might his exodus or entrance make<br /> With a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear,<br /> Or strays trespassing from a neighbor's yard,<br /> But that the dread of our unheeded cries<br /> And scratches at a barricaded door<br /> No claw can open up, dispels our nerve<br /> And makes us rather bear our humans' faults<br /> Than run away to unguessed miseries?<br /> Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;<br /> And thus the bristling hair of resolution<br /> Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,<br /> And since our choices hinge on weighty things,<br /> We pause upon the threshold of decision.<br /><br /> -ShakespawJames Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-4676939970785377542008-04-30T12:32:00.000-07:002008-04-30T12:35:27.842-07:00War Music<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Well, I got a week down and launched into the first part of a workshop for a show to be done at ACT next year, War Music, based on Christopher Logue's epic poem of the epic poem, the Illiad. It's an adaptation, a retelling of this story which is vibrant, hysterically funny, and brings a modern voice to the story, a modern ear; it's not put in a different time or country but is the Trojan War (with many cuts judiciously done by the adaptor and director, Lillian Groag) in it's entire.<br /><br />It's simply stunning. Mr. Logue has done an amazing, almost impossible thing--he's told the tale faithfully, without stinting, without losing a single image that Homer's original contained, and the words! Ah!<br /><br />And so many of them......the reading, which was not staged in any way ran about 3 hrs and 20 minutes, and Lillian is now faced with the monumental task of pruning it still further without losing any of it's richness, and with figuring out the focus for the piece--who's story is it? Achilles, who begins and ends the piece but is largely absent from the middle of it, or the War in it's entirety? And if it's not Achilles, how do you go about focusing it, to bring the lens of today to it? Not an easy task, but one I know she's up to. <br /><br />From my scant knowledge of it Logue apparently began it in the late 1950's and finally had it published (this from the inside of Lillian's own book) in 2000. I think it's amazing piece and when it is finally pared down will be incredibly Theatrical, deeply human and funny. Read it for yourself--you'll have to special order it, most likely.<br /><br />It'll be worth it--see it next year at ACT.<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-60146981801735786582008-04-15T08:57:00.000-07:002008-04-17T13:54:46.331-07:00The Flip Side<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />So how did my opening night go, you ask? It's hard to say actually, as my memories of the evening are mostly a blur but a Director friend I hadn't known was coming met me after the show and the first words chortled gleefully from his lips were, "Jim, you have balls of steel." Whatever that signifies. I'm also sometimes told I have a magnetic personality. Now I'll have to be more careful when I tie my shoes......<br /><br />Earlier in the day I put Opening gifts together, wrote a few cards, read, and went to eat. I usually eat Japanese as it's not too heavy, a little ritual that helps get me in the groove and focus for an Opening Night.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">But I didn't feel more focused after I ate, and I went to the Theatre thinking "Oh, boy is this going to be one of <span style="font-style: italic;">THOSE</span> nights? One of those nights on which nothing goes quite as smoothly as it should, filled with hiccups and glitches? Quite frankly none of us knew just what to expect--we'd never had more than a few people, no Preview, never a full live house, our Opening <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> our first Preview.<br /><br />This means you have to get it right the first time. It means you have to listen intently to the crowd--to read the tenor of the audience right away, see if they're ready to play and how much, ride the laughs that will hopefully come, be ready for any bobble and be ready to cover it. You can't relax into it, you can't be sloppy.<br /><br />The curtains parted, the Hypno Screen came down, the intro rolled, the thunder pealed, the spirits shrieked and I hit the deck running.<br /><br />And they loved it. Really. The audience was mostly kids, mostly 11-ish, but a smattering of older and younger who howled and hooted and occasionally yelled out something indecipherable. There had been no preshow recording as is usual; that old "Please remember to turn off all cell phones, and remember no pictures or video recording." speech and within minutes of the curtain a woman in the front row began taking flash pictures at point blank range.<br /><br />But the show went well though the 2nd act did bog down a bit due to one actor. You guessed it: Mr. X--he did the expected and immediately went to his default acting setting and played the electrician role as Blanche DuBois. Ah, well.<br /><br />The second night went not so smoothly, with some technical glitches right off the bat--they didn't open the main curtains while I was backing up and I tried to open them without looking but got myself wrapped in the drape instead which rattled me a bit and it took a bit to get my footing again, but I was ultimately able to play the moments and crowd a bit better as I now had some kind of template for possible reactions. According to others I kicked ass.<br /><br />I found this posted comment on my blog today:<br /><br />Anonymous said...<br />Saw the play last night. Brought both children with us. What can I say? I was everything we love all rolled up into one package. I must say though - the theater itself was certainly part of the performance. Thank you for the words here and a most memorable evening - one that my children will have a lifetime.<br />Cheers.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">You're welcome.<br /><br /></div></div></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-69813124256570216112008-04-11T14:59:00.000-07:002008-04-11T14:58:52.902-07:00ZVSP Opening Night<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Ahhhh. At long last it is upon us! At long last we will see if my really cheesy fake moustache and soul patch will stay on for 90 minutes of sheer hilarity, see if it actually <span style="font-style: italic;">will </span>be 90 minutes of sheer hilarity, see if farting reigns supreme, see if Mr. X gets his lines right, see if I get my lines right.<br /><br />We got in our first run thru's with no stops for technical or actor glitches last night--did 2 runs with a 20 minute break in between giving the crew time to reset the stage and props and giving the actors a rest--the crew didn't get a break as is often the case, and with the insanity of the week having reached high tide they are now pretty sure of what they are doing but tired and crabby. Can't say as I blame them.<br /><br />The intensity of the crabby factor varies from person to person according to their dispositions, but the tired factor seems pretty Universal--a viscous bug hit the cast and nailed me early in the week but I had the sense to the Doctor right away as I knew it was bad; Keta, our female lead, caught it a day or so later and has a raw throat, a cough and is belting out her songs nonetheless though I know it's costing her.<br /><br />But we got through it--twice. Yaaaay. Wahoo. I've still no idea what an audience will think though we did have a few invited guests last night--we go into the audience on several occasions and some were smiling, some weren't. Not a clue as to what the ratio of smiling/non smiling was.<br /><br />Rider has thrown about everything into the mix he can--we now have a hearse parked out front and a 12' tall red devil in the lobby; he'd ordered wind up bats at one time to try flying into the audience to terrify them; most wouldn't fly at all and the ones that did posed a danger of blinding audience members as they weren't <span style="font-style: italic;">soft </span>bats. The backstage and dressing room areas are now filled with the effluvia of horror--yesterday I saw a dummy called "Donna the Dead" (Get it? Dawn Of....oh, never mind) with a sticker pricing her at $200.00.<br /><br />We have an entire table of unholy accessories backstage and it's littered with buggy eyeballs, fake rotten teeth (Rider had wanted Sam to try these but they discovered that you couldn't have fake rotten teeth <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>a lateral lisp--Sam's salivary glands nearly exploded they were so confused, and the lisp was ultimately deemed the more desirable of the two. Thank you God.), horns, whistles, pom-poms, fat suits (oh! big disaster last night--the zipper on the back of the gorilla suit broke), large fuzzy spiders, wigs, beards, nasty fingernails, and fart machines. A veritable panoply of weird odds and ends which is constantly in the way and being pawed through by X to further grace his characters.<br /><br />I put together some small gift baskets together for cast and crew excluding as much sugary stuff as I could--it's going to be crazy enough without the sugar factor--and am signing off now to fill out the rest of my cards.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> Wish us Luck, and as the French would say:<br /><br /> <span style="font-size:130%;">MERDE!</span><br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-60317794239512647492008-04-09T13:25:00.000-07:002008-04-09T13:23:21.606-07:00How Do You Get an Actor to Complain?<div style="text-align: justify;">Give him a job.<br /><br />An ancient joke but pretty accurate, at least in my case. It seems to me I'm always grousing about something and I don't know if it's because I'm turning into the curmudgeon I've always been destined to be or I'm just too damn picky for my own good. If I were to grouse about ZVSP what would it be about? Hmmm--so many choices.............<br /><br />It's mostly organizational, I think--it's a truly chaotic process here and we burn time on a daily basis--45 minutes will go by before we actually do something in rehearsal. The tech has been a minor nightmare--I found out last night that the sound and lighting crews didn't have headsets so they couldn't hear our stage manager call the light and sound cues. This explains the 5 to 10 second of dead air after some of my lines. I can't go on until many of these cues are called as my lines refer to them, but we managed to tighten up several of these last night.<br /><br />The costumes get piled in a heap in a spare room downstairs and every day you have to sort through the clothes and it's weird that no matter how carefully I stash or store them <span style="font-style: italic;">I still can't find them the next day. </span><span>I've supplied my own pants, shirt, and socks since the Costumer managed to find only one article of clothing that fit me, though she's had about 5 weeks to find them, buy them, or steal them off a corpse. She's Hungarian and she brings her 80-ish year old Mother with her all the time who looks mystified by the entire process; the first time I came near her mother she shouted at me "I don't speak no English!" I replied in milder tones that I don't spoke no Hungarian. We're buddies now, I think--we smile at each other a lot, anyway.</span><br /><br />The props? I have to check them myself I find--which any actor who is in a prop heavy role should do, but sometimes I can't <span style="font-style: italic;">find </span>them to check them. And the desperation factor in getting this show up and over with is making itself evident--I'm supposed to use a "Hypnodial" which for our purposes is defined as one of those swirly vortex patterns that lulls one into a trance state, and got for the prop a short stick with a string on one end and a paint can lid with a hastily sketched out hypnodial on it screwed onto the other end, the entire unweildly apparatus meant to be worn around my neck. I think I'm going to have to make my own.<br /><br />We found yesterday that they're cutting the musical number at the top of Act 2 as it "just wasn't working"--a bit late in the game to realize this I think as we've worked on this song and dance for 4 weeks. We're replacing the entire number with a short sketch that begins with Garganta blowing farts on his hand to amuse the other Monsters in my collection....then Keta will sing a song. Originally the top of Act 2 was to be a dream sequence of Neetroys starting with "5th Avenue" a great old tune (a Shirley Temple hit at one time) after which I would wake him, he would strip off the enormous pair of red womens panties that he'd been sleeping in and then we would look for the kids that the Graveyard Devil had made off with.<br /><br />It's true that the dream sequence was not set up well, but we all liked the song and I think it has just a bit more class than hand-farting, but I confess, I am not sorry to see those red panties go.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span> </div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-52924157174365289352008-04-07T16:28:00.000-07:002008-04-07T16:28:15.292-07:00Our Cast of Characters<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br />Here's our cast, most pulled from the area, some actors some not but a good bunch of people.<br /><br />Rob-Plays Garganta, the most horrifying beast of darkest Borneo. He is of course one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet, and wears that suit without complaint. Rob works at the local paper and seems a pretty damn fine actor--kind of a shame that he's playing a gorilla, but he's a pro about it. I thank the fates that he's not a method actor. That could be weird.<br /><br />Jody-Our all around man; he not only works on the set painting, and building but also plays Mr. Hillbilly, a cop, an exterminator, and stagehand. Jody somehow finds the time to have a job at the video store and looks really tired a lot of the time.<br /><br />Sara-The token Brit; Tall blond and tanned she's a former model who now rides horses in competition, and has turned her seemingly inexhaustible energies to this show, but she really wants to race cars professionally. She plays one of the Doo-wop girls and Madame Draculana, famous vampire and drinker of warm human blood.<br /><br />Donna-Riders 60-ish stepmother, magnificently white haired and trim, she was invited along for the ride after his wife dropped out. Initially kind of tentative amongst the rest of the Doo-wop girls who are younger and have a wee bit more movement training, she's now shaking her thang with gusto and having fun.<br /><br />Brandon-Does double duty as Hankenstein and the Graveyard Devil. A graphic designer, I think--he's almost 7' tall and is just the nicest guy you'll ever meet. He's fascinated by the process of putting a play together and things we find ordinary are to him new and wonderful. Quite sweet. I've volunteered to be fight captain and have coached him and the children how to abduct and be abducted with safety--his GD costume is huge and clumsy and he has to come off the stage, grab two of the kids we have planted in the audience, carry them one under each arm, back up the stairs and offstage. He has yet to receive his other costume................<br /><br />Dania-One of the Producers, Rider's assistant, and one of the Doo-Wop girls. Actually a Journalist by trade this job fell into her lap during a lull and she wears so many hats it's hard to count them. Always pleasant and funny she's been a great help to us all.<br /><br />Ardriane-About 7 or so years old, she had a tendency to holler "It's ARDRIANE!" at me when I mispronounced her name--until I asked her if she knew what MY name was.......the next day I was greeted quite pointedly as JIM. She's smart and sweet.<br /><br />Errol-Rider's son about 8 years old; Errol is our stooge boy--I get to hypnotize him and he does the Sacred Voodoo Death Dance of the Living Dead shaking his butt liberally at the audience which has got to be a lot of fun for just about any kid. He's a sharpie. I also find he loves old Mexican Monster movies.<br /><br />Lydia-Our former Assistant Stage Manager now made Stage Manager, since our former SM had her child last week and is out of the show for good. Lydia took over a bit late in the game but has been instrumental helping the process attain some sort of order and plan. She's a pretty damn good singer and dancer in her own right and has all the dances down better than most of us. She's still playing catch up on all the script changes, trying to keep pace with the scenery that's been cut and just generally trying to stay on top of this thing. She's a Godsend.<br /><br />Mr. X-I will not give this persons name, but I suppose anyone who reads this and knows him can figure it out quickly enough. He's been a major pain in the ass from day one, selfish, aggressive, a constant victim in life and has only recently altered his behavior due most probably to a discussion with the director which might have run something like this: "Listen here X, I've about had it with you, so now here's the deal."<br /><br />If you don't shut up I will fire you.<br />If you come late again I will fire you.<br />If you don't learn your lines correctly I will fire you.<br />If you yell at the other actors again I will fire you.<br />If you don't stop giving other actors advice I will fire you.<br />If you don't stop ad libbing during others lines I will fire you.<br />If you don't stop asking pointless questions while we're working I will fire you.<br />If you don't stop using others props for your scenes I will fire you.<br />If you keep playing your character as a Southern Queen I will fire you.<br />If you don't take a bath and brush your teeth the other actors will strangle you.<br />And I will let them.<br /><br />It must have taken something at least that strongly worded and specific for this character as he's barely said a word the last two days. A huge relief--every rehearsal we dealt with the "Mr. X Factor"; we'll see if it lasts and if he doesn't wind up doing what he damn well wants to do in performance.<br /><br />Rudy-Plays Teddy Corn and is in civilian life well known for his Rockabilly music; we heard a sample of it last week and he's damn good! Rudy is about 74 and was in a car accident last year, rear-ended by a semi truck, and is still suffering from nerve damage due to whiplash. His hands are swollen and he hasn't been able to play his guitar for a year which kills him, but he's incredibly cheerful and the only times I know he's hurting is when he'll step off a curb and I'll hear a sharp intake of breath. I've taught him some stretching and warm up exercises for his forearms, wrists and hands and I see him assiduously practicing these throughout rehearsal. I've done a little massage work on him myself and Rider has generously been taking him to his own chiropractor for body work and the swelling has reduced some. I give Rudy a ride to the motel most nights after rehearsal and have discovered something about him.<br /><br />Rudy is in love with my car. As we were approaching it one night he stopped, leaned back, took a long, slow look and said: "Damn Jim, that's a purty car!" as if he'd just seen it, just realized what a gorgeous automobile it was. My car is a Hyundai. A very pretty blue Hyundai mind you, but a Hyundai nonetheless. But in Rudy's eyes it's every bit as good as a Mercedes and now he rarely fails to remark on it. And it's curious that now, when I drive him to the motel, I feel I'm driving a vehicle much more luxurious--I feel richer somehow.<br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-3955681185230334932008-04-06T10:01:00.000-07:002008-04-06T12:14:15.000-07:00Week III, ZVSP<div style="text-align: justify;">This weeks' not been much different than the last--the same strange, the same incremental climb of performances; we did have one hitch however--Sam discovered that after 5 days of doing the new version of his character, Neetroy, after discovering the lateral lisp and Rider's seeming enjoyment of what he was doing with the character, that Rider pretty much hated everything he was doing and was frustrated with Sam's progress. This was news to all of us as we thought he'd liked it and it had the ultimate effect of causing Sam deep distress.<br /><br />I decided to step in. Normally you don't do this for another actor--the role is his and his battles his own to fight, but these are not normal circumstances. The next morning at rehearsal I talked to Rider, said basically that Sam and I were a part of a "comedy duo"-- a straight man, funny man team and what affected Sam affected me. I tried to get a read on what his interpretation of Neetroy was and it sounded like it boiled down to his feeling that Sam was being too cute and that he visualized the character more along the lines of Rick Morranis in Ghostbusters; I asked if rather than a run through of the play with no specific point in mind that we instead do a work thru with Sam giving it another shot based on our collective interpretation of what Rider wanted and he agreed. I talked to Sam, told him what I'd done and what Rider had said and what we'd be doing with that days rehearsal. I think he was grateful I'd interceded on his behalf and we did the show with his new tack on Neetroy, the rest of us discovering how his adjustments affected our own dynamics. Rider seemed well pleased at days end and I think the problem is solved once and for all. <br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-18777837574596354152008-03-28T12:56:00.000-07:002008-03-28T13:02:49.846-07:00Pegging the Oddometer<div style="text-align: justify;">Wow. Another peculiar week--this project just seems to draw oddities to it like little fluttering moths of strangeiosity -- a Weird Magnet, if you will. And understand, it's nothing <span style="font-style: italic;">massive </span>all at once but every day there's something--some small<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>but <span style="font-style: italic;">strange </span>occurrence that is out of the realm of the ordinary rehearsal day you'd have at say, Cal Shakes, ACT or Berkeley Rep and it adds up to a big ol' pile of weird.<br /><br />The week started off sluggishly--we'd had a 3 day break and what we'd done the previous week felt very distant and unconnected--they gave us new scripts on Tues. and we didn't have time to transfer all the blocking and notes we'd written down, so it was a clunky, stumbling rehearsal all around.<br /><br />Sam Meisner has been struggling to give Rider (our Director) what he wanted and Rider has been unable to define what it was he was looking for well enough for Sam to give it to him, which is a hellish place for any actor to be; the poor sods that this happens to often turn out to be the directors whipping boy, eternally unable to please and forever getting notes, line readings and forever insecure in their performance. Wednesday was a dance session, then a work-through with a "character conference" for Sam at the end. Rider had a blowup at me--not abusive, but angry which of course pissed me off too--there was a brief glaring session, the rehearsal went on and apologies were exchanged on both sides at days end.<br /><br />After that rather brutal day we all met up at our hotel, and vented; Me about the blow up, Keta about a musical issue and Sam about his character conference with Rider--I'd tried to coach him a bit as to what to say --"I need more specific notes or I can't give you what you want" kind of thing, but it hadn't helped and Sam came back more disheartened than before, still not knowing what Rider wanted. We talked awhile, commiserated, drank root beer, laughed a bit and went to bed.<br /><br />We came in the next day and really attacked it, really tried to see just where it wasn't working and why--Sam came in with a lateral lisp for his character and the occasional sound blurted out in a Daffy-Duckish,Tourette's like fashion, which he was throwing out in sheer desperation and which was actually quite hysterical, though we did get sprayed a few times before he'd gotten it under control--Keta finding a little glasses wiping shtick. We had quite a good days work, Rider seeming very pleased with the progress and with Sam's new found character. Ahh, the lateral lisp--a lifesaver! The only minor odd notes sounded were the costumer coming in and running the sewing machine <span style="font-style: italic;">during </span>the rehearsal--I finally asked if another place to run power tools could be found..........<br /><br />The next day we were on the Stage! Very early in the process to be doing this, but we were grateful to get to know the theatre well in advance, and ran the show repositioning and adjusting the blocking we'd set to the new space, and seeing the set units in place for the first time--very tight backstage it will be indeed.<br /><br />We'd just run the seance sequence and were on a short break, sitting onstage in our chairs and chatting when I noticed a young man wander onto the stage--we sometimes have problems with outsiders just wandering in and gawking, so I cocked an eye questioningly at the Stage Manager and back to the young man and she said "Oh! Let me introduce you to Michael--he's part of our running crew for the show--Michael these are our lead actors." Since I was facing Michael I introduced myself first, and the following dialogue ensued:<br /><br />Me: "Hi, Michael, I'm Jim"<br />Michael: "Nice to meet you Jim."<br />Keta: "And I'm Keta."<br />Michael: "Hi, Keta."<br />Sam: "Hi, my names Sam."<br />Michael: "Hi Chssam, I'm Michael." ...................<br /><br />Chssam.........? Our Sam, dear sweet Sam, the Sam that Michael had just greeted, had frozen in his chair, and looking back on that glacial moment I find it impossible to describe the look on his face. Rapid startled glances were exchanged amongst us --- had we heard correctly? "Soooo---Michael, are you from the area?" I ask struggling to maintain my composure and trying to ascertain if my hearing was going or just my mind. "Oh yeshhh!" he replied brightly, "But I work all over the plache--Shanta Crooch, Shan Franchiscko, Shan Joschay, you name it!"<br /><br />Oh Dear God Please No.<br /><br />The term Irony doesn't begin to cover this moment. By the time I'd finished talking with Michael, Sam was slumped over and staring dully into his open palms, a stricken look on his face, I felt mildly hysterical-- as if I might break into wild, mad laughter at any moment, while Keta chewed on her lower lip, wearing an undefinable expression as we watched the young man stroll up the theatre aisles and out the lobby doors.<br /><br />What are the odds on that one? What are the odds of getting probably the <span style="font-style: italic;">only </span>stagehand within at least a 1,000 mile radius who had a lateral lisp to be in the show you're in, playing a character who has a lateral lisp--a lateral lisp I might add, that has just rescued your character and redeemed you, a lisp which was the veritable floating piece of timber onto which you'd scrambled in your attempt to find something character specific and comedic in a sea of acting choices?<br /><br />Truly Phenomenal. And hysterical. And deeply weird--you just couldn't make this stuff up.<br /><br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347567088186552207.post-59060696777737528742008-03-23T11:14:00.000-07:002008-03-23T11:22:14.994-07:00Golden State Theatre Photos<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOBm85FbP0uS8uVw2jNq4u9DTZPnrI1Frh3yg7aZaHZ6PCXNwkl9Ri2A3952o1YlkQLqS3095IM_BIRMJSjp8mUOPm7xH2X0C33QsRtOMekaO7sZwg8YWCxbM-KJJBxXzWu3QPp9fQ5S7/s1600-h/exterior_front.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOBm85FbP0uS8uVw2jNq4u9DTZPnrI1Frh3yg7aZaHZ6PCXNwkl9Ri2A3952o1YlkQLqS3095IM_BIRMJSjp8mUOPm7xH2X0C33QsRtOMekaO7sZwg8YWCxbM-KJJBxXzWu3QPp9fQ5S7/s320/exterior_front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178776983011026066" border="0" /></a>This is the exterior view of the Golden State Theatre; the top part of that central portion is molded tin starting just above those top center figures and filigree's--a shell which add to the height and grandeur. All the windows had some kind of embellishments over them as well and on both top corners are square panels with an eagle head design--the one visible has been removed. This was an old Vaudeville house and was on the circuit of houses that various acts would tour to; an actor/performer could develop an act and tour this circuit for years. The original dressing rooms still exist, little cramped cubby holes lined with slatted wood panels, a sink and mirrors.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSZk2bVzR9mY2LGjGHO-yJlwbq9ogj8SZtuCZKj8gfAgeUwD6ggwy5ObRpLN_mAOIKh2B6QvlmZNf3Uxivx9-TxV7NugAwFnuCcOZApLTPirE3mVSpBzrmfxZsohQ4whh_M8fSb19uXRU/s1600-h/balconylobby2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSZk2bVzR9mY2LGjGHO-yJlwbq9ogj8SZtuCZKj8gfAgeUwD6ggwy5ObRpLN_mAOIKh2B6QvlmZNf3Uxivx9-TxV7NugAwFnuCcOZApLTPirE3mVSpBzrmfxZsohQ4whh_M8fSb19uXRU/s320/balconylobby2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178777803349779650" border="0" /></a>This is the upper lobby and has been pretty much completely restored with the exception of some of the ceiling murals--the entire interior was repainted grey and this upper balcony level partitioned off into two other theatres. The damage from the installation and removal of those partitions is still visible in the main auditorium and has not quite been mended. Not visible in this shot are 4 hideous, beautifully carved wooden chairs, and the equally ornate embellishments along the top of the wall at right.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpGMUO1o2qJfWZYErzBlyRyVhhdN2rvALEqvqkExeXshpG_ox0J6T36dznf0eAD2K_gnhTIBihVoEUnGBsQifLYjqaLCP92dNXdk1D6BqkdvEJNUmYXazjRGp8-3UdfgYxzsJ8Imu34rV/s1600-h/balconylobby1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpGMUO1o2qJfWZYErzBlyRyVhhdN2rvALEqvqkExeXshpG_ox0J6T36dznf0eAD2K_gnhTIBihVoEUnGBsQifLYjqaLCP92dNXdk1D6BqkdvEJNUmYXazjRGp8-3UdfgYxzsJ8Imu34rV/s320/balconylobby1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178777661615858866" border="0" /></a>The top section of the Grand Lobby entrance, looking from the upper balcony lobby toward the street outside. I don't know the name of the Spaniard in the mural who stands so heroically in the bow of the dingy. I think it's a dingy. Could be a skiff. And he could be Portuguese.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXW1ZWzZPP4n-ScHsne9nPHfNttIaL_TpbV-oLNzHvI3OOrNJJSEgKclTEiOtUkA9dGchJeRa-gpvoUZbJQRxsHONoAsM2ZZMcW9utik-7oBWlSQi_f33hnxwn2Awz0LxWt-w_IKq04xA/s1600-h/cryingwindow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXW1ZWzZPP4n-ScHsne9nPHfNttIaL_TpbV-oLNzHvI3OOrNJJSEgKclTEiOtUkA9dGchJeRa-gpvoUZbJQRxsHONoAsM2ZZMcW9utik-7oBWlSQi_f33hnxwn2Awz0LxWt-w_IKq04xA/s320/cryingwindow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178778262911280370" border="0" /></a>A wall panel outside the mens' restroom the anteroom of which is paneled in mirrors, but otherwise pretty functional. And yes, I have looked into the ladies' loo as well. Sans ladies, of course. It's much prettier. There are niches in the walls of the building every so often that have a small ornate Egyptian/art deco-ish plaque in the upper portion of the niche with a capped pipe coming out of the wall below them. Couldn't figure out what they were. Then I saw firehoses wrapped around a few of them. Ah.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3IY7bf1JvjsVdR_SE-SEj0qqyF9dKvsShnW0uUAv3Op14z5R4B-k_ats3OJM85VwopG9IA8JAxBEJYBEsSSN9pdvPFpcXn11-Ef8m2o-nOqYDfJwP8ZHp7NG7Wh85z4yb5dlirWexoLH/s1600-h/auditorium_chandelier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3IY7bf1JvjsVdR_SE-SEj0qqyF9dKvsShnW0uUAv3Op14z5R4B-k_ats3OJM85VwopG9IA8JAxBEJYBEsSSN9pdvPFpcXn11-Ef8m2o-nOqYDfJwP8ZHp7NG7Wh85z4yb5dlirWexoLH/s320/auditorium_chandelier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178778146947163362" border="0" /></a>The main theater chandeliers, which hang at the rear of the auditorium under the balcony--there are also 3 very large circular recessed lighting niches in front of these toward the front of the balcony. I couldn't find any shots of the side walls of the auditorium and am endeavoring to get some photos of my own taken.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpoZgNNbLnYxqCZewlY-GA_TL2ZWT9xrel9gH3jzPeXXqeshCUrFFwQYIq3UmnUiOUyw9kL9CBlHWiw45dfh5AiSFNtN2EIx5Z_mQABX3ux0Ocg4vUUjWjd_yL9eA1RcO2_oYS8swbCln/s1600-h/proscenium_front.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpoZgNNbLnYxqCZewlY-GA_TL2ZWT9xrel9gH3jzPeXXqeshCUrFFwQYIq3UmnUiOUyw9kL9CBlHWiw45dfh5AiSFNtN2EIx5Z_mQABX3ux0Ocg4vUUjWjd_yL9eA1RcO2_oYS8swbCln/s320/proscenium_front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178777983738406098" border="0" /></a>The stage itself--not quite as wide as ACT's, I think, with little wing space for scenery and sets, but a well functioning fly system enabling us to lower backdrops and scenic elements down. The acoustics are amazing--you can speak in a normal voice and be heard in the back row of the balcony--the slightly curved ceiling may be responsible, and I'll see if I can get some pictures of the ceiling of this room--quite beautiful. The mighty Wurlitzer organ is in a niche front center stage and I believe has a lift to raise and lower it into position. The forestage you see here has been squared out into a more complete platform--those side niches filled in--and we'll have stairs left and right so we can go into the audience. Grand, isn't it?<br /><br /></div>James Carpenterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13320351326188766012noreply@blogger.com1