War Journal Entry #6: Halfway Point!
Previously on War Journal…
-Sang held auditions…Sang got drunk at a wedding…Sang casted his show…Sang held the first cast readthrough.
So what happened at the first cast readthrough? Well all 11 of them (minus two who couldn’t make it) gathered at my favorite hosts and neighbors’ apartment across the street. Traditionally, this thing is held in the same restaurant we held our first table read (see War Journal #2) BUT the idea of having a waitress pop in and out during the reading was an anathema to me so I compromised and got to have in a relaxed but controlled environment. Relaxed because there was booze present. Controlled because it was only beer.
Within an hour into the reading, the most gratifying thing that could happen to a writer happened…
…spontaneous fellatio…
…no just kidding but thanks anyway Mr. Stage Manager. But in reality, the best part of hearing my works read aloud is when people get it. And everyone got it. And what’s better is that some of the cast got the joke better than I could…and I wrote some of them. When you spent an hour trying to perfect a 30 second exchange of dialogue or one punchline and the reader nails it on the first try, you can’t help feel that all that time that could have been spent free-basing was not wasted. Don’t worry Mr. Cocaine… I haven’t forgotten about you.
But that was the easy part. Sure something might be funny the first time…but can it be funny if you say it over and over and over again? Welcome to rehearsals.
First off, let me say that scheduling a rehearsal outline for a show is an agonizing nightmarish ordeal. I feel as if it’s similar to being gang-banged by a pack of unruly Australian marsupials (see entry: Science is FUN)…sure it’s all…wow…this is fuzzy…and I can put my pocket change in their pouches…how convenient. But then after 3 hours, your like…WHOA…time for a break fellas. Anyway, you’ve got 13 cast members…all who have lives…and each of those lives are intricately woven into other lives…so it’s birthdays, and weekend trips, and evening jobs, and significant others and quality time with the aforementioned Australian marsupials. WHATEVER. Anyway, it got done. Thankfully, that wonderful art gallery owner I mentioned in a previous entry was more than hospitable so I was able to get the most of my quality time with the actors that I needed.
There’s a saying that no matter how much time you have, you will never have enough time for rehearsals. I can’t say if this is true because I’ve never had that much time to begin with. Despite everyone’s best efforts, I always walk into rehearsals feeling as if this should have started a month or two earlier. Spurn in NYC was notorious for that. Five different shows and each time, we’d all promise we start sooner than later… but oh the lies we weave before eyes like a blindfold over all our eyes. Like that imagery? Nice huh? It’s actually stolen from Natalie Merchant. But that’s Natalie. You won’t get that kind of imagery from me. All you get with me are animals getting fisted, rampant drug use and horny marsupials. Deal with it.
So you may be asking, “Sang! If you feel as if you don’t have enough time in rehearsals…how do you get anything done?”
To which I reply,”Shut the f*ck up crazy voice in my head! Go away! Haven’t I killed enough people in your name! When will it be enough? WHEN. WILL. IT. BE. ENOUGH!”
Ahem. You get through rehearsals just fine if you have a ready script, a fantastic cast who brings their “A” game, and a good director. Thank god we got the first two.
Note that I said “ready script” not good script. September will tell if this is a "good" script. I’m an arrogant vain prick with delusions of grandeur but I keep it all inside and it only pops up with the occasional eye roll when I watch someone else’s work. Most of the time I manage to be polite and diplomatic. Then I go home and rant about the inferiority of others and the superiority of myself to my army of honey bear containers.
A ready script just means that even if it’s not funny, even if it’s not good, even if it’s not fit to wipe the fecal matter off a homeless drug addict, it is still ready to be read. I know, the logic escapes you…welcome to theater. I have seen potentially really great plays that are still being written and re-written causing fits because people have to memorize these lines and sound,light,props and fx have to be created and blah blah. Then you have ready plays that suck but at least you know what you’re getting into… in other words…it’s shit, but at least it’s warm shit.
And then you have actors. Actors (including actresses but I’ve misplaced the memo specifying the etiquette on whether to denote an actor from male and female…and by misplace, I mean I honestly don’t give a fuck). They breathe life into a work and can find new and wonderful things that are not readily apparent on paper. They also get all the credit and fun and know where all the good drugs are. But if they’re good (and these puppies & kittens are), you’re constantly entertained by their ability to try different things and find a gesture here or a facial expression there. I often get envious that I don’t get to be on stage more often but when I see my cast in action, I remember why I’m better off it. Like I said, I’m a vain bastard but I know where my place is.
Okay so, we’re halfway through. Progress report…rehearsals are proceeding nicely and the cast have managed to be off-book most of the time. I met our lighting designer who seems quite good, I’ve wrangled another friend to help out on and off-stage, meeting with a musician next week to see if I can salvage my much desired musical number, our fight choreographer is doing a great job so I’m in a pretty good place right now.
PLUG TIME: I wasn’t aware that Friendster was sending updates of my blog to everyone on my Friends list instead of the 4 or 5 I felt safe advertising this too BUT in case some of you have been lurking…our show has a fundraiser. Check out the link. If you have some time or pocket change, go to paypal and pony up or better yet show up.
Random Sang Trivia: Sang almost got his ass kicked once by a Russian mail order bride and her grandmother.
This BLOG was brought to you by: The National’s “Secret Meeting”.
