June 29th, 2004
|09:16 pm - glass disease|
Part of the fun of a festival of six one-act plays is finding rehearsal space since only one cast can be on the stage at any given time. Well, sure, you could play Crazy Mish Mosh Mix Em Ups, but since most of these David Ives plays deal with crazy words and gibberish and borderline gibberish and bells ringing left and right, we'd really be confused.
Us Philip Glassites are confused enough, what with a script that reads like a piano player roll and insanely astute lines in unison like "PHILIP CAN THINK BREAD / BREAD HELP PHILIP THINK" (I hope I just didn't give anything away there.) As far as rehearsal space goes, we've bounced around from church parlor to hall tables to Mare's balcony, and when we were just doing table reads and concentrating on the dialogue, it was okay. Blocking needs space, though, and we've tried to find suitable room and emulate the pesky pole that adorns the Theatre@First stage. And while the performance space at Jimmy Tingle's is a bit smaller (and might I mention how wonderfully obscene it is to say stuff like "Jimmy Tingle's black box" out loud and mean it?) we're trying our darndest to hem ourselves in to space that'll work on both stages.
(Oh, yeah, if I hadn't mentioned, Theatre@First gets to do two of the Ives one-acts in ArtBeat, the Somerville arts festival in and around Davis Square, a few weeks from now. Both Philip Glass Buys a Loaf of Bread and The Universal Language will be performed in Jimmy Tingle's Off-Off-Off-Off-Off-Wow-That's-A-Lot-Of-Offs-Off-Broadway theater, right next door to the Burren in beautiful Davis Square. Hoopla!)
For rehearsals, though, we finally found room in the shed behind the First Church, but ... it's not for long-term exposure. It's, uh, moldy. And dusty. And moldy. Did I mention the mold? Jamin started sneezing first. But he's allergic to a lot. I found some old Oberlin yearbooks in a box and they're of the perpetually-damp basement-dwelling variety with curious greengray markings on each page. And yesterday we were tossing back and forth a really scary-looking Nerf football which was playing the role of Loaf Of Bread. I am reasonably sure it was once a Nerf football but we found it in its fossilized state. And it made our hands itch.
As a result, all of us were feeling terrible today.
So I think us, the redhead stepchild cast (onnaconna we went to the shed) all came down with moldy something bad. I was coughing all day today. I just thought it was dust and being up early and stuff. But we were all wiped tonight. We showed up at rehearsal slumped, beat, and in some cases, doped up on the cough syrup. (Me, I was just wiped.) Somehow we actually got up enough energy for a decent read and we blocked out the show once really really well and I'm pretty sure we got a laugh or two, but...
We managed to pull something out of our collective misery. I think that's quite a testament to the kind of cast 'n crew we are. Hey, I know. I'm trying to find the silver lining, and here's a good-looking one.
But man. Consider this ass kicked. I shouldn't be up but I wanted to watch Last Comic Standing, and now I can pass out.
PS: Martha did something to Abbie's blog. That wily pirate.
1 : foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action
I say: Obsessive to the point of delusional; ventures in this fashion often veer straight towards futility, but hey, it's fun, DULCINEAAAAAAAAAAA