Closing Time: Part 1/3
Posted by A Quiet Man with a Loud Voice | Labels: drama, theatre | Posted On Wednesday, October 21, 2009 at 4:17 PM
Closing time – this room won’t be open ‘til your brothers or your sisters come.
So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits – I hope that you have found a friend.
Closing time – every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
-Closing Time by Semisonic
I’d like to start off with an apology to any readers who were hoping for regular updates. I apologize for letting you down. It was fully my intention to continue to blog about the experience of performing in For Every Man, Woman, and Child. But a point was reached where the actions of one person overshadowed the actions of the rest of the cast and crew. For the sake of confidentiality, I am going to refer to this person as “A”.
There was a moment in the process when the ego of “A” took over so wholly, that the process became less about the show and more about what “A” was going to do next and how we were going to overcome it. I’d like to end all suspense right now and praise my fellow cast members and all the members of the crew – they took all the drama “A” caused in stride and with the utmost professionalism.
Blogs, by nature, are intended to be a chronicle of your thoughts on an experience. When my thoughts began to shift away from the process of the show and towards the cloud of negativity that “A” was producing; I realized that I could not, in good conscience, post anything on the blog about it. It would be unprofessional and immature. No matter how much I may be upset with “A” – I would have to wait until the show was over to discuss the effect that person had on the show.
This is not to say I didn’t complain. I did. Everyone needs to vent about things. Especially when it is as important as this show was to me (and I’m sure, to the other cast members). But I kept my complaints to a minimum – and I only spoke to two or three people about it; people I have known for a long while and trusted. Because when something you perceive as bad happens to something you care about – you do need to get things off your chest rather than just let them stagnate inside you.
So that, in a ways, is my long-winded apology.
But the show is now over – and I am free to go into as much detail about the bad things and the negativity that sprung up as a direct result of “A”’s actions. But I would like to stress, once again, that there were lots of good things to come about as a result of this show in spite of the drama caused by “A”.
With the said – I’d like to pick up at the moment when the show came dangerously close to being cancelled.
Let me preface with this – I have known the director, Dan, for almost twenty years now. I have always found him to be the calmest, collected, and even keeled individuals that I have ever met. I have worked for him as a stage manager, master carpenter, and assistant director. I have acted in a show with him before. And I have never once seen him lose his temper. Usually when he is disappointed, he lets us know – with an upset (almost dejected) tone to his voice. But in twenty years – I have never seen him yell.
Ever.
The night the shit hit the fan, I was sitting in the audience away from the rest of the cast. People forgot their lines, people forgot their blocking, and people simply weren’t taking it seriously. There was a lot of joking onstage, screwing around, and just a general sense of: “oh, it’s just a show – let’s have fun!” I noticed it, some of the other veteran actors had noticed it, and Dan noticed it.
Up in the audience, I was growing increasingly (and visibly) frustrated with the group to the point where I seriously began to wonder if it was worth it. I had come all the way to Ohio from Chicago – and all I saw before me were people who were not taking it as seriously as I was.
Then an entrance was missed again and Dan lost his cool.
The next day he apologized for it, because he is a lot better of a person than I am. If it was me, I wouldn’t have apologized at all. I probably would have left the rehearsal that very night and cancelled the show. But Dan is the kind of guy that continues to believe in people, even when they don’t deserve it. And none of us deserved it that day.
The day after, we came, and the mood had changed.
He’s right, we seemed to be thinking. We have been screwing around. We need to do better. For me, it was more of the need to prove to Dan that I could overcome whatever resentment I had been feeling towards the process and move in a positive direction. He deserved as much for putting up with our nonsense.
From then on we seemed to attack the script and the process with a renewed energy and a desire to get things right. It is a credit to every single actor onstage that they rose to the challenge. They listened to what Dan said, and they each seemed to realize that he believed in them and that they were capable of putting on a fantastic show.
And from that moment, even though it was a bad moment that I hope I’ll never have to experience again, I felt like everyone truly became a member of a cast dedicated to bringing the script to life.
Excuse me.
Everyone except for one.
“A” never quite seemed to get it. As one of the lead roles “A” seemed to think the show was all about her. While the rest of the cast was helping each other learn lines, “A” was out smoking and talking. While the cast was working together onstage to create an ensemble, “A” would cut off people in the middle of their lines and even take lines from other cast members for herself.
The worst part is that “A” refused to acknowledge her faults and improve upon them. When something went wrong “A” was never at fault, no. Instead it was always the other person’s. For example:
At one point I was onstage between two actors, including “A”. Let’s call the other actor, “B”. “B” said his line, so I turned to him to see what he was saying. “B” finished his line.
Silence. I waited for “A” to say her line to give me a reason to turn.
The stage manager pointed at “A” to indicate it was her line. “A” immediately goes, “It’s not my fault! Cleric wasn’t looking at me; I didn’t know it was my line!”
Really?
Fine. I apologized just because the rest of the rehearsal was going pretty well and I didn’t want to do anything to sink back into that negativity that we had finally managed to claw ourselves out of.
There were more incidents during the course of the rehearsal process. At one point the five “lead” actors decided to get together before rehearsal to work together. (I put “lead” in quotes, because I feel by the end of the show there weren’t any lead actors – but a true ensemble of actors.) We were all there on time, except for, you guessed it: “A”.
When “A” arrived, she went outside to smoke while the rest of us waited inside. Ten minutes later I went out to tell her to hurry up and went back in. Ten minutes later, I went back out and told her to get into the theatre now. What we had hoped was going to be an hour of extra work had now shrunk to a half hour.
When “A” finally decided to come in, we started work. Only to find that “A” had not memorized the lines she was supposed to. “A” and “B” had to work very closely together during this show – and because “A” hadn’t done the work properly, “B” was thrown off. I felt nothing but sympathy for “B” because I had witnessed him working hard before rehearsals. I know he worked outside of rehearsals. But when he got into rehearsal – there was nothing he could do to help things along if “A” hadn’t done her work.
During this pre-rehearsal, “A” suddenly stopped, and began to complain and shift the blame onto other people. While Carol and Dan tried to talk with her – the rest of us went outside of the theatre – disappointed. We had come in with the intention of helping both “A” and “B” fix a lot of the things that were going wrong. We had tried to get her to join us as a group and work together. But at every turn – we were rebuffed…
But it is to “B”’s credit that he persevered – and one of the great privileges I’ve had was watching him grow as an actor. This was his first show (as far as I know) and he managed to do something special in spite of “A”s continued attempts (subconsciously or not) to derail the process. “B” and the other two leads never took on the diva attitude that “A” did, and for that I’m grateful.
Because there’s only room for one diva in any given show. And that’s me.
Coming Next: Tech Week to Opening Night!
ADDENDUM: I could go on for quite a while on more of the dramatics caused by "A" but I don't want to. I'm ready to move on.
SECOND ADDENDUM: For a while I considered changing "A"'s pseudonym to "Lamesauce". But I suppose I should attempt to be mature for once.
First of all, I would like to start with “Yea, Welcome Back!” I have enjoyed your observations and am glad that you are blogging again.
I am relatively new to the art of the theater and over the past year I have had the opportunity to witness the theater process from several different perspectives - - most recently on stage with this show. The experience was phenomenal, and I have become addicted to the theater – without a doubt. Someone who has known theater as a focus and a mainstay in their life since they probably don’t remember when probably looks at me like “OK – that’s cute. She’s smitten with the theater.” Much the same as when someone without children says they love kids and I think to myself how they will never truly know what that love means until they become a parent and then witness for themselves their own heart walking around outside their body. My point is… I’m a newbie, barely experienced in the theater and completely in awe of the people who everyday put themselves (their emotions, their creativity, what they have made that completely comes from somewhere inside) out there for other people to witness, experience and even criticize.
That being said… You are entirely right about the night that Dr. Nadon lost his cool (absolutely justified in doing so, btw, and I did not think he needed to apologize at all) being the turning point. After that night just about everyone – I’m sorry – everybody stepped it up and the whole project took on a different significance. After this - when things that threatened the show would come up, or when blame was repeatedly shifted, and even now looking back - I am completely impressed with the level of professionalism and perseverance that I observed from the people who truly put their hearts into telling this tale in the way that it was told.
That’s it – a long winded way of saying how impressed I was. Oh – and that you were right (I know that is good for your ego) – but then you already knew that. Thank you – and keep blogging! I’m so glad you’re back online!
Hear, hear (no pun intended!)! Welcome back to blogland Cleric. I, too, missed your writing about our process in putting together "Every Man...".
But since I don't smoke, I'm glad to know that it is not I who caused such acido and angst. I remember well the night when Dan yelled. The next day, aftyer he had apologized for yelling, I told him that we were going to have to send him to yelling school or perhaps arrange for him to parent a houseful of kids in order to perfect the art of yelling.
Working with Dan was the most amazing experience for me. His consumate professionalism and quiet straightforward approach to his craft created an atmosphere of trust; created a safe place to try things and to fail without recrimination. He is perhaps the most "un-divalike" person I have ever met in theater (excluding, of course , you dear Cleric).
Being an outsider to this group had at least one advantage. I was unaware of all the drama. To the untrained eye I didn't see the trainwreck which was approaching. But what I did see was a young woman whose life was spiraling. This is not an apologetic for anyone (or Everyone), just an observation. Hopefully the participation in this extrordinary endeavor changed her life, as it did mine and so many others.
Love you Cleric...and admire your smarts and your devotion to your art. Keep blogging. It is always fun to read.