Anger Management

Today was a 12 hour day. At 8am I entered the rehearsal space with Susan, determined to transform everything: floor, props, the air of mild desolation hanging about the place...The Auditorium where I usually stage my plays, reminds me of an old Italian woman. Ok, that makes no sense whatsoever, but let me explain. Think of Italian neo-realist movies where actors are, in fact, amateurs chosen for certain characteristics --  a particular walk, a facial expression, a certain tone of voice, etc. From time to time, the main characters in these movies are women whose faces spell desolation. Once beautiful women, now devastated by life. Eyes burning with unconfessed desires, disappointment carved deep into the lines around their mouths, a certain harshness, a bitterness easy to miss at a first glance, an overall tristesse (The French have a way with words...) Usually, all these women need to be restored to their original splendor is a bit of affection...Now you see the parallel? That's what the stage here needs in order to show its true potential: a love affair. That's where Susan and I come in. Armed with one gallon of flat black paint (for the floor), one gallon of flat white "Pot O' Cream" paint (for the chairs and props), white spray paint for one brown (ugly!) plastic table, and red spray paint for Dominique's bracelet, we conquered the space. Splendor was restored. We worked nonstop for 9 hours. At the end, the world of Habitat Radio emerged -- tentative, new, exciting.

At 20 minutes to 5 we were done. At 15 minutes to 5 I realized that I had spent the whole day thinking it was Sunday, thinking I had weathered the time change successfully. At 10 to 5 Susan and I started paying each other compliments. "You are so amazing..." "No, it's you. Your paintings make the set." "I am so in love with our work." "I know, isn't it amazing?" "Yeah, I'd date me." And so on and so on. At 5 we were ready for the cast to arrive and be completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the set. They were, but showed restraint. Susan and I reminded them that we had been working for 9 hours. Several times. In the end, they showed a little bit of appreciation...

Rehearsal moved slowly. I tried to solve all the problems in the second half of the play. Sound remains a problem. I feel for Matthew (our sound guy), new to the process and to the space, trying to constantly figure out this old equipment...At this point I don't know if it's Dan's voice that fades out during the final (and most important monologue) or if it's the mic's fault. Inexplicably, a speaker  seems to short from time to time. Perhaps I need to do what I've done before -- borrow a soundboard from our trusted radio station (KRVS and its wonderful sound guy, Karl), grab Jerry's speakers and take Matthew out of the sound booth ( this setup requires the sound guy to sit in the front row).  It's worth a try.

The plan was to rehearse without Seth until 7 and with Seth afterwards. At 7:10 the stage manager gets a text message: Seth is stuck in traffic. He can be there in 90 minutes or meet us in the morning. All the frustration of the previous day comes back, mixed with a new kind of anger. That's the thing about doing a play: by the end of the rehearsal process you know everything about everybody -- weaknesses, strengths, egos. Tonight the entire collective suffered because one person's plans could not (would not) be changed. The rehearsal process suffered as all those present felt a little cheated (they too could have had lives on a Saturday night...)

I had trouble directing scenes after that. I could not concentrate -- the frustration got the best of me. We wrapped up the scene and went home. I have to get over this, and fast. My frustration cannot become more important than the play. I'll try to recuperate some of the wasted time tomorrow. Perhaps the time change is symbolic. It is time for a change.