April 2006 Archives

"saving it" or slowly working towards some final performance level that will coincide with opening night and the run.

Reality: I'm holding back -- not moving forward.

How it's done: if each rehearsal gets stronger, richer, more full, more clear and my ability to find more and more new, interesting and exciting insights, then that's how to grow into a performance! Work hard each time!

Worse rehearsal is a long time -- the worst: was not prepared for the scene, had not worked/thought it through. Other problems:

• forgot to write down blocking for the last rehearsal so today I was suddenly lost,
• didn't mentally-physically rehearse and pick out one or two things to address
• overtired: not enough rest/sleep

Generally felt terrible, aware of how little I was getting or giving, and was not able to rally or focus, and rally to what, focus on what? Jill somewhat pointedly noted my fumbling during rehearsal . . .I was not prepared -- I'd better figure out what that means, how exactly to do that.

Next time:

1. Prepare: read/review the scene, blocking notes, any notes from self rehearsal. Critical to self rehearse, and then prepare to rehearse -- be ready to do that (don't just show up and then try to get orientated).
2. Pick specific things I want to work on.
3. Rehearse well -- give it my all (#1, #2, #4, & #5 here will be the foundation of this)
4. After rehearsal, sit down, review, as I'm doing now
5. Write down the next steps, the next things I want/need to do in rehearsing a scene

"Seraphic Dialogue" (1955) by Martha Graham, an interpretative vision, and one of the greatest moving Masterpieces of the 20th Century . . .

                      . . . Joan's transformation by the Angles.

I was hoping I could do here, in this journal, what I did with the short scene for the Weise-Barron show case, but no way I can keep up in this journal, as much as I'd love to . . . later, if I keep careful notes, I'll detail the work I'm doing, which is starting to get intense -- all I can do is sketch some early things out here: I've got to remember to update my written journal after each rehearsal so that I can later transfer things here.

Some Running Notes:

• I pause a lot. I pause because sometimes I don't know why I'm saying something, and I'm waiting for motivation . . . inspiration . . . a miracle. Ron has me running through the text, and at first I thought 'how's that going to help!?,' but now I see . . . he's trying to get me to stop thinking, and this almost subconsciously seems to free up resources to focus on doing, and that is making things clear much more quickly than "thinking" about them . . . Ron's an old pro, and he knows what he's doing . . .
• To perform is such a great learning opportunity, but the role is so large, I feel I have to work more quickly than usual, and the main challenge has been not to get bogged down. I feel I'm on the verge of working in a new way -- more physical/intuitive, and next week I'll start a workshop that will meet twice a week for a month based on Patsy Rodenburg's work. What little I've done seems to have helped allot . . . I'm still scared and anxious, but I'm getting into the rhythm of working for all this -- my life is about to be consumed by it all for the next two months . . . if I forget my fears, albeit only momentarily, then I feel like the luckiest man alive . . .

Scene: Jeanne d'Arc in Chinon (1429), Castle of Chinon, Loire Valley, France. 15 years earlier, on the morning of October 25th, the French suffered a catastrophic defeat on the rain soaked fields of Agincourt: 2200 French cavalry, 33,000 infantry of Charles VI confronted an invading English army of 5000 lead by King Henry V. The English lost 13 horsemen, 100 infantry. French loses totaled close to 30,000: 12,000 killed, many more wounded. Henry V was recognized by the French in the Treaty of Troyes (1420) as regent and heir to the French throne. This was cemented by his marriage to Catherine of Valois, the daughter of King Charles VI.

Nine years later, with defeat piled on defeat, the French house is bankrupt, the northern half of France is owned by, and is squeezed under, tight English Control. What reminds in the south is in the hands of roving bands of marauders. I, Charles VII, The Dauphin, am cloistered away in the Castle of Chinon: broke, no authority -- here or anywhere -- and the rumor in France is that I will pitch the crown and take what little I have left and will run away to Scotland.

The first sound advice I've heard in months.

The siege of Orleans has begun. As Orleans goes -- so goes France, and the last of France, huddled behind shaking crumbling walls, waits for the end . . . it is the end. In truth -- it's past the end: I believe France is already gone. My dreams of France, my dreams for myself . . . like a cruel joke!

All this -- God did this, to France, to me. Believe?! Believe in what?!! I am nothing, because I AM nothing. Who's to save France? Let God do it! God who has taken so much from France, from me, let Him left the bow, shoulder the harness, drag the wagons of the dead and dying through the mud!

I cannot save what God hates.

And what men are left? Men like La Tremouille, the Archbishop -- they don't give a shit about France, and if they could figure out a way to get rid of me, they'd seize everything and sell out to England . . . maybe they're doing exactly that right now . . . maybe they should do exactly that right now. . . maybe they're right & smart to sell out . . . maybe I really am a fool. They don't give a shit, they don't care, and I despise them: Bastards, traitors, and I cannot stand up to them. They are France now, what's left of it: 'Thank you God, for making them so strong, and powerful, giving them every advantage, and leaving me with none!' They hold the "real" power now. I am my father's son -- nothing more. I cannot save France -- instead, I now dream of saving myself, far away, in another place, alive, safe . . . in a place where I do not recognize myself . . .

If they knew . . . how I felt, they would move against me, and what could I do to stop them? I need them --funny -- to keep me alive -- I can't have them decide to turn against me, so I let them talk about me and treat me the way they want. My one strength: to be a clown, in the face of all. At France, at me, I'll laugh with God . . .

Stop caring. I don't care anymore.

Beat #1. Trigger: France is going to hell in a hand basket, albeit a nice hand basket; I'm an idiot, a fool, I look ridiculous, I act ridiculous-- I am ridiculous-- I'm not going to be seen "dancing" while Rome burns . . .

Relationships: The Little Queen. Harmless, "nice," and doesn't "get it." If she did, I might have a friend, one friend, in the last place on earth . . .
Angus . . . smart, hot, I want her, I can't really stand her, because I think she does "get it," but like a cat -- she has other agendas. Yolande does care about France, about me, I think, and she thinks Angus will do me good -- it's completely hopeless, but if she wants to throw Angus in my bed . . . why not? It may be the end, but . . . one can't let oneself get too depressed . . . but she bugs me. I act like a fool, but she sometimes, sort of, acts like a AM a fool.

I'm not a fool.

NOTE: Charles is "on stage" here -- "acting like a fool for all the world to see," so I'm going to set things here, and practice how I'll say them. Normally I wouldn't do this, but Charles needs to be funny, sarcastic, with undertones of dispair, contempt. Using humor to handle it all . . .