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Sometimes I just don't have the answer. Plain and simple. I really don't know. Actor asks question. And a blank emptiness seeps into my brain. And I say, "I don't know". There's no point in trying to come up with an answer. I have watched many brilliant teachers and directors simply admit that they don't know. Great lesson to me. The answer is discovered in the process only to have more questions surface with no answers attached to them.
Last night, Kristen struggled through the first scene we worked on ("What She Found There"). I inherently understood that part of her struggle had to do with the playwright (john Glore) being present at most rehearsals including last night's. I pressed her to admit this but she refused (only after rehearsal did she admit this fear to John). I was at a wall. There were other thinngs that Kris was workig through in the scene but I did not have an answer nor did I know how to help her through it. My face gets hot, I sweat, I feel the glare of the spotlight on me and in that moment I also feel the presence of John and Lindsay (my assistant director) and the other actors in the room looking at me, waiting, expecting brilliant words to spill from my lips and...I breath...and say "I don't know how to help you here". Sometimes the answer eludes me for days or weeks. I must remember this.
There is balance, however, and work on the second scene (Bridal Veil Falls) was invigorating and while this time Jeremy struggled through the work it was a different kind of struggle. It felt like we made good discoveries and moved forward and I felt very good about the whole night.
I checked in with John afterwards to make sure he felt the play was headed in more or less a direction he felt served the piece. Luckily, we are not headed west when we should be headed east! John seemed pleased with where the play is headed.
Breath.
Comments
Over the course of my many years as a dramaturg at South Coast Rep and Center Theatre Group, two theatres that do a lot of new work, I'm so used to seeing the playwright in the rehearsal room that I forget this is an unusual experience for some. It never occurred to me that my presence in P&F rehearsals might make anyone uncomfortable, so it surprised me when Kristen admitted as much to me the other night. She and everyone involved in the show are doing such fantastic, committed work that I assume they must be completely at ease with me, as I am with them. (But now that I realize they view me as some kind of UNGODLY MONSTER OF JUDGEMENT AND DISGUST, I will never darken the rehearsal room again. I'm kidding . . . or am I? Yes. I am. Maaaybe.) I actually haven't been able to sit in on rehearsals as much as I'd hoped, but it's always such a pleasure for me when I can, and I learn something new about the play every time I hear it and listen to Edgar and the cast grapple with it. So a public thank-you to all of them for giving themselves to the work and indulging me when they sometimes wish I wasn't looking at their every move.
John G.
John Glore | Sep 01
I just read John's blog and now I know why he hasn't been at rehearsal lately. Just kidding John. It is such a honor to be working on such an amazing piece of work and to have the writer right along side. It is only out of the desire to bring these words and these characters to life in manner that honors what John created that causes me presure--self placed, pressure, I shoud add. The "ungodly monster of judgement and disgust" is not you, rather my own inner critic at times". Reading John's blog makes it a whole lot easier to let that monster go.
Michelle | Sep 14
I have been working on this play for quite some time now (directing it) and i am happy to say that i am more and more in love with it as time passes. i wish that i could have had the bennifit and the excitement to have John Glore in the rehearsal room with me. great play and great fun.
Ryan M.
Ryan Maeker | Sep 19
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