Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day6

Day 6

The final day of opening week is here, and as I open my eyes to greet it, I realize I welcome it. I snooze for an extra half hour, then crawl out of bed feeling pretty rested and pretty good — although secretly, I can’t wait for the day to be over.

I head to the theatre for rehearsal for As You Like It, which I’m sure will be more like a pre-opening night chat with our director Antoni Cimolino. In the Green Room — the staff cafeteria — I run into a friend who mocks me for my purchase. “Forget about muffins, missy,” she says to me, “you need energy today. You go out and get a good pasta in a nice thick cream sauce — that’s what you need.” Then she gives me a hug and a kiss and sends me on my way. Maybe she’s right…

Down in the maze of the festival theatre building, I find myself in Rehearsal Hall No. 3, a room named after Tanya Moiseiwitsch, the first designer of the Stratford Festival, and the genius behind the architecture of the most magical stage in the world — the festival’s thrust stage. Most of the cast is already seated when I arrive. I scarf down the rest of my sad little muffin and join them. As I thought, Antoni hasn’t gathered us to really rehearse — more to check in and have a chat. His job is finished; the show is ours now. He delivers a heartfelt thank-you speech and ends by saying that this is the most fun he’s ever had directing this show. I take this as a good sign.

Rehearsal is broken, and we have a five-hour countdown until show time. I hurry downtown to pick up a very last-minute opening-night present, get distracted with a little window shopping and, heeding the advice from earlier, pick up some chicken fettuccine alfredo to go.

At home, I set to work organizing everything for tonight, have a quick nap and before I know it, it’s 6 p.m. and I’m trundling off to the theatre, bags and bags of cards and presents in hand.
Warm-up is crowded, almost everybody is there; there is so much energy in the room, it might as well be levitating off the ground. I go to my spot — I have the same spot every day — and immediately feel myself go into a “zone.” I’m really focused tonight — I have no idea how or why — but I go with it because it feels really good. Usually, I’m very influenced by the chaos around me, but something inside is keeping me grounded and connected. Because of this, I leave feeling excited about the show, and not the least bit scared.

Downstairs, my dressing room table is overflowing with cards and presents and flowers from friends, cast mates and, of course, Mom and Dad. This is totally overwhelming — people are so generous.

Tonight, the show will start with Barenaked Ladies singing the national anthem live on stage. This shifts our usual show rhythm, but the band sounds really good and after the cheers for them have died down, there is a hush as the stage goes to black and this year’s production of As You Like It is unveiled.

I have a lot of fun in my first scene as Audrey — but I’m aware that I’m trying too hard. I tell myself to relax and trust; to my surprise, my body listens. I don’t feel like overanalyzing or worrying tonight; life’s too short.

And so is the play, apparently — as fast as it began, it was over. After the curtain call, the back stage halls are filled with chatter and laughter. I look in the mirror as I take off my wig, and I’m smiling. I had a really good time tonight, and I think I feel satisfied. Upstairs at the reception, I say goodbye to a long but fulfilling week with a toast that lasts into the wee hours of the morning…

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/theatre/stratforddiaryday6.html

Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day5

Day 5

Friday — a two-show day. Started it by doing a lot of breathing this morning, and since then I feel as though I’m moving in slow motion — which I think is a good thing, because usually my motor is running pretty fast. A voice coach took one look at me and said, “We need to settle you down” — and she was right. One can’t help but be energized this week, but it’s all in how you deal with it.

The theatre — all three theatres, for that matter — are in adrenaline overdrive, and the spirit of that is contagious. Not only does our own adrenaline kick in, but because as artists we are so open, we take on the energy of everyone and everything around us. And you can’t ignore how you feel; you have to find a way of working within it, of breathing down the centre of it. And it sort of tricks you, because you don’t feel it until you slow down, or better yet, stop for a moment. So that’s what I did. I stopped, had a lie-down with my legs up on a chair and just listened to my breath for an hour. To non-actors this will sound ridiculous — but it’s key. And when a professional voice coach tells you to breathe, you listen — because they know best.

At the theatre before the As You Like It matinee, the girls gather in my dressing room to organize our opening-night surprise for the boys. All I can say is that it involves a lot of lipstick…

I have great fun doing the show today. Playing in a love story is so great. It makes you so happy all the time. Way better for your mental health than being in a tragedy every night.

For dinner, I decide to treat myself to a pizza at Pazzo Ristorante — the best pizza in town. When I arrive, I discover the whole world seems to have had the same idea. I run into several friends who just opened The Brothers Karamazov, a new adaptation by Jason Sherman at the Tom Patterson Theatre; they say it had been a good afternoon. A few understudies had been on due to illnesses in the cast, but all had run smoothly. My doggy bag in hand, I head back to the theatre for the evening performance of The Tempest.

At the fifteen-minute call I can feel myself crashing. The combination of a really long week and all that breathing this morning have resulted in the ol‘ gas tank being out of gas. My Goddess costume feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and I can taste my bed, I want it so badly. My walk home — a whole four blocks — seems endless, and as I drag myself up to my apartment, I vow that I’m going to have a nice long, restful sleep before the big day tomorrow. But not before I have just the tiniest piece of leftover pizza as a bedtime snack…

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/theatre/stratforddiaryday5.html

Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day4

Enter Stage Right
Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival
By Laura Condlln June 6, 2005

Day 4

I think it’s always a good idea to start the day with a bit of girl talk over brunch. This morning I met two friends — Martha Farrell and Jennifer Mawhinney — for some “eggs benny” and some good ol’ fashioned gossip.

The three of us spent the winter training together in the festival’s Conservatory program — a nineteen-week classical theatre intensive. We bonded instantly because we were outnumbered by the boys nine to three. It’s a harsh reality for women interested in classical theatre; there just aren’t that many parts. There are some really good ones — Shakespeare knew how to write for women — but there’s much more opportunity for the boys.

After breakfast I head to the theatre, running into stores along the way for some final opening-night supplies. I’m a great believer in multitasking, and I’m also a “last-minute” junkie.

At 12:30, I arrive breathless for warm-up; it takes me twice as long to settle and relax. By 1:15, I’ve signed in at the call-board and am putting on my make-up — except that after I’ve done half my face, I realize I’m preparing for the wrong show. It’s an As You Like It matinee, but I’ve been in such a Tempest rhythm all week that I went into automatic pilot. Not to mention that we haven’t had an As You Like It performance in five whole days.

Switching eye shadow, I get myself back on track for my first entrance in “the party scene.” Santo Loquasto, our designer, has put us all in outrageous 1960s costumes for this scene — all in black and white to symbolize the harsh, cold laws of the court. The effect of my big red beehive wig, the make-up inspired by an old Vogue ad, a long cigarette and my tent dress/unitard combo prompts people to tell me I conjure memories of their “Aunt Marilyn.”

After the scene, I begin the transformation into the second character I play in this production. Audrey (me) and Touchstone, (played by Stephen Ouimette) have a comic romance in the play. He’s from the court, she’s from the forest. He’s the clown, full of life with a quick wit and a healthy libido, and she, well, she’s a simple country girl who just wants to get married. Classic comedy.

We don’t meet Audrey until the second half of the play, so I have some extra time to get ready. And it’s a good thing, too, because I’ve developed quite the routine. They say that baseball players don’t change their socks before a big game; it sounds a bit mad, but I’m sort of like that, too, only with slightly more regard for personal hygiene.

Once I develop a pre-show pattern, I rarely change it. I do everything in the same order — even when I fill up my water bottle — and there’s a secret ingredient, too. Before I enter for my first Audrey scene, I take out my Walkman — not an iPod, but a Walkman — and listen to “Good Morning Starshine” on an old Broadway recording of Hair. It always puts me in the right headspace. Down the hall, Sara Topham, who plays Rosalind in As You Like It, listens to Mozart arias before she goes on. We all have our quirks.

The show goes very well. The audience is our quietest so far, but that allows us to go back to the text and the story — which I think will always serve us better than playing for laughs. Antoni Cimolino, our director, wants us back in the evening for rehearsal; during my dinner break, I secretly hope I’ll be let out early so I can attend the opening of Fallen Angels tonight at the Avon Theatre.

Throwing a dress in my bag, I hurry back to the theatre, and sure enough, at 7:45 I’m released. I fly across town, and just as the lights are coming down, I slip in beside my date to enjoy a brilliant evening of Noël Coward.

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/theatre/stratforddiaryday4.html

Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day3

Enter Stage Right
Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival
By Laura Condlln June 3, 2005

Day 3

I think the hardest part of opening week is the feeling of being under the microscope. Let’s be honest: there are critics everywhere — even inside our own heads — but sometimes it’s hard to have a thick skin that protects you from the harsh judgments of others.

It is my belief that as actors, the learning and growth process never stops. The same holds true for productions. You can’t possibly have all the answers to your character’s journey by the time the show opens. And what would be the point? If you know everything already, why continue? I think you should have strong choices in place, a shape within your scene work that won’t shift drastically, but there has got to be room for flexibility within that form. We’re human, we’re sharing ourselves within our art, and the work must be alive, have breath — it can’t just be a replica every night. Obviously, I don’t mean that actors should have the freedom to respond to their every whim. But things in the work — the relationships between characters, connections to text — are going to grow and develop over time. Especially here at the festival, where some of the shows run for five or six months.

Someone once told me that when a show opens, it’s in its infancy, and I truly believe that. Over time it matures and settles. So why do we put such emphasis on an opening-night performance, as a kind of “make it or break it” judgment time? And reviews can do damage, even if they are good reviews. I try not to read any, but the temptation is terrible.

I bring all this up because as I was getting ready for my Tempest matinee today, I couldn’t stop analyzing my performance from Monday night, our opening night. Questions, worry, doubt — all flooding through my brain. And the reality is, I only say twenty-two words. I thought I was losing my mind. Because of the pressure of the opening, I lost all confidence and trust in my work. Brooding over whether it looked OK and sounded OK, rather than just getting on with it and doing my job. All because I have endowed critics, a handful of people in a sea of audience members, with the power to decide whether I’m good or bad. If I spend my career doing this, I’ll go mad.

A lesson I learned while training in the Birmingham Classical Conservatory here in Stratford during the winter was that good work speaks for itself, and that it’s not worth seeking the approval of others. This is a giant beacon of wisdom that will take me a while to fully grasp. Armed with this, I turn to face the rest of opening week determined to focus on what’s important: the telling of the story and my place in that.

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Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day2

Enter Stage Right
Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival
By Laura Condlln June 3, 2005

Day 2

First order of business — coffee. Second — a costume fitting.
Down I go through the maze that is the Festival Theatre building, past the prop shop, boots and shoes, the millinery, the dye room and a storage room that holds the most pairs of panty hose I’ve ever seen. Eventually, I find myself in the fitting rooms.

This morning I have a fitting for The Lark by Jean Anouilh (adapted by Lillian Hellman), which is the third play I have been contracted to appear in this season. The Tempest and As You Like It, both by William Shakespeare, have been rehearsing since March and both open this week, and The Lark — which we call a “late opener” — doesn’t even start rehearsal until next week, and opens in August.

Today, I get my first glimpse of the world of this play about Joan of Arc. I play Joan’s mother, and my costume sketch shows a simple European peasant woman. It’s interesting, the information you receive at your fittings. The theatre is so big, and has so much going on that much is decided and completed ahead of time. So you can walk into a fitting and discover a great deal about your character because of the choices that have been made for you, before you even start rehearsing.

I think this can be both helpful and hindering — it depends. Today, it’s helpful. I look in the mirror and immediately get a vision of who this woman is. I feel older, a bit tired — which one could argue might have something to do with the party last night — and my shoulders begin to cave in slightly because of the cut under the arms. They ask me to do some “apron acting” to decide on the length of the hem and the dress, and presto — instant character. Joan’s mamma is born.

I check the time and see that I have fifteen minutes before I switch hats and go to the As You Like It rehearsal. Perfect. Just enough time for coffee No. 2. This time I go up through the maze and find myself in Rehearsal Hall No. 1, a room named after Tyrone Guthrie, the first artistic director of the festival. For rehearsal purposes, there is a mock-up of the stage in this room, but today, the floor is covered with a large circle of chairs. Most of my fellow cast mates are already seated when I arrive, so I slip in between two friends and say a quick hello.

Antoni Cimolino, our director, greets everyone and begins to give us notes from our last preview. He emphasizes that in a comedy, we can never afford to let the audience get ahead of us. He stresses how we must all focus on keeping the dialogue and the story moving forward, and it is for this purpose that we have gathered for rehearsal. He wants us to do a “radio run” or “Italian” of the play. This means we will stay seated exactly as we are, and deliver the text as quickly as possible while still maintaining the integrity of our thoughts and intentions. This exercise can be informative because it makes your brain work faster and infuses new life into scenes. As the country goat herder Audrey, I don’t speak until the second half of the play, but before I know it, I hear my cue line coming from across the circle. I look over and see my Touchstone, played by Stephen Ouimette, with a twinkle in his eye. He’s the best. We do our thing back and forth across the circle and rehearsal is broken.

Back at home I put on a frock, have a quick salad and a cocktail with a friend, and together we run out the door to the opening of Hello Dolly! The energy in the theatre is buzzing, the show is fabulous and the crowd erupts at the end with whistles, shouts of “Bravo!” and people on their feet in never-ending applause. And there we have the second day of opening week complete.

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/theatre/stratforddiaryday2.html

Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival-Day1

Enter Stage Right
Diary of an actor at the Stratford Festival
By Laura Condlln June 2, 2005

Laura Condlln is a 27-year-old actor who just completed a 20-week intensive course at the Birmingham Conservatory for Classical Theatre Training at the Stratford Festival. Founded in 1998 by festival artistic director Richard Monette, the conservatory’s aim is to train the next generation of actors. Young thespians apprentice at the conservatory, and as part of their training, are cast in a season of Stratford. In this, her fourth season, Condlln appears in three plays: she plays a Goddess in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Audrey in the Bard’s As You Like It and a role in Lillian Hellman’s adaptation of Jean Anouilh’s The Lark. What follows are Condlln’s impressions of her opening week on the Stratford stage.

Day 1
I just don’t know how I feel about starting my day at 9 a.m. in my accountant’s office, finding out exactly how much I owe the government in taxes. Bless his heart, he’s a really nice guy and he broke it to me gently — but he could have been speaking a foreign language for all I understand about GST and CPP. Being an adult is hard — especially a self-employed one. But I remind myself that no one has ever died by paying their taxes so I just better get on with it. And let’s be honest, there are some other things that should be occupying my brain today…

Opening Week has arrived. Today is Monday, the gala opening of the 2005 Stratford Festival Season, and more specifically, the opening of The Tempest — one of two Shakespeare productions I am appearing in this week. As I put the coffee on, I make a mental list of what I need to do today. By some wonderful miracle I have the whole day off until I head to the theatre for my call tonight. I know I should take advantage of this time, because it’s rare around here, so the day fills itself with chores, a debate about what to wear to the reception tonight — with a mild panic about earrings — writing Opening Night cards and a nap.

At 5:30 I head to the theatre. Before each performance, a 30-minute voice warm-up is scheduled for the actors. I love these warm-ups and attend them religiously. It’s my time to get centered and “into” my body in preparation for the show. Tonight, warm-up is being led by Janine Pearson, the Head of Voice here at the festival. Her voice is meditative and seems to soothe the nervous jitters we can all feel in the room. After a series of exercises, I leave in a state of readiness and focus — only to go down two flights of stairs where backstage is exploding with opening-night energy. Flowers and cards and presents are spilling off everyone’s dressing room tables, and cast and crew alike are buzzing around every corner. It’s fabulous.

At the five-minute call I hear the trumpet fanfare — it’s a long-standing tradition that began in the festival’s inaugural year, and a sort of comfort food for me. I feel butterflies in my belly as I watch William Hutt enter from up stage center greeted by a long round of applause. Off we go.

Half an hour into the show, I go to my second warm-up. The three goddesses, of which I am one, sing a trio in Act IV and we have made it a habit to check in with each other and to sing a bit before our scene. I also am making a small pronunciation adjustment in my line of text, and have had strict orders to run it at least ten times so I don’t panic when I get out there. Nerves have a mind of their own, and I’m not going to let them boss me around tonight.

The show sounds good, and the audience seems warm and receptive for an opening night crowd — which can tend to be quiet. We have a sound system backstage that allows us to listen to what’s happening on stage. I don’t make my entrance as Juno the goddess of marriage until after the interval, and since it takes me forever to put on my make-up and my enormous and gorgeous costume, I spend most of the evening listening to my fellow cast members. When Bill begins the famous Prospero speech (“Ye elves…”) you can feel the magic in the building.

Bill is a Canadian theatre legend and this production of The Tempest will be his farewell performance. He is a master, and he will be missed. You can feel how much he is loved at the curtain call especially. Tonight, all 1,600 hundred people rose to their feet in unison as a sort of human wave as he entered to take his bow. The feeling and energy of that is impossible to describe. It’s quite something.

The reception after the show is a bit of a blur, and as I walk home, I decide that tonight went well. A good start to what I hope will be a good week. I fall into bed, the early-morning meeting with my accountant a distant memory…

Source: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/theatre/stratforddiary.html