Donna Lucia's final rehearsals

February 13-15, 2000

Sunday afternoon...second to the last rehearsal.

This was a technical rehearsal, without full costume, but with our lighting director, props and everything else set to go. The temperature was stifling. Not only was the boiler wasn't working properly, skyrocketing the heat into the 80's, but were there paint fumes from a work bee on Saturday. The theatre we'll be performing in is "The Studio", the lower level (okay so we're in the basement!) and it's known as a Black Box Theatre. That means the entire room; walls, floor, ceiling, are painted black, lighting is minimal compared to a main stage production and the seating is moveable. It's a perfect venue for experimental productions and small intimate productions. No heavy stage-make, only street make up since the audience in up very close to the actors, at times only a few feet away.

Since it's community theatre, everyone pitches in. They often schedule work bees to do maintenance work, and The Studio needed to be painted. I had to run Cassis, my standard poodle, at an agility demonstration at the local mall on Saturday, so I had an out. I couldn't have anyways, the fumes would have drove my asthma nuts. Fortunately they had cleared by Monday. However that Sunday afternoon The Studio was a bad.

My character was definitely coming together. I would have to bump the perky quotation up a notch, but Donna Lucia was definitely coming into her own. We ran the whole play through, in record time. We worked and reworked the final scene, getting the timing down. The director wanted to know if there were other scenes we wanted to work on and I had one I was not happy with at all. It just wasn't funny. He gave me a couple of suggestions and I fell right into it...Donna Lucia laying a trap for the fake, the cat's claws come out, but only to tickle not to rip apart. It was fun. I suddenly remembered this was the way I originally started to play the scene, but somewhere along the line the intent was lost! It's amazing how the scenes can start with one attitude, take another turn and finally end up where they began. You see! I had the right idea in the beginning. A couple more hints and suggestions from the director and we had that scene nailed down, and it was funny!

Clyde had come and video taped my scenes for me to review later. He kept saying how great I looked, but he wondered if the video would capture it! Talk about a depressing viewing! The video color was totally burned out and I looked like the ghost of Christmas past with black eyes popping out of a skeletal figure. Oh yuck! The director told me to check out the excessive sighing and hand gestures on the video. Another oh yuck!!! I looked stupid, fluttering and excessive. The key is this: if you must make a gesture, make it mean something and don't keep doing it. One tiny fidget turns into a major gesture. Concentration is the trick. What is the character doing and why? Make it all means something. Now if we can just get that bra strap pinned up on the bodice so I don't have to keep looking like a two-bit hooker trying to be enticing!!! Oh the simplest gestures, from a nose rub to a shoulder shrug, are all magnified! It's enough to drive an actor catatonic at times!

Sunday we were supposed to be off-book, but with prompting for a missing line or two. There are still two people on book. A bit nerve wracking for us all, and they of all people know it's getting way too close for not knowing lines. I had a slight headache to start with, but with the heat and fumes it was getting bigger. Almost five hours we rehearsed on Sunday afternoon. We still need more rehearsal time, but it just ain't there so we'll deal with it.

I was ready to go home to try and relax when one of the cast members invited me to join the Sunday evening Improvisation workshop. It usually only went an hour or so and would start shortly. "It's fun. It'll help you relax, its stimulating." Okay, why not. But I would only stay for a short time, I mean after all, how much acting in one day can a person take.

Almost a dozen people showed up. There was an older man, Al, who ran the workshop. We did different contentless scene exercises (see I know about this stuff because of the acting class I'm taking on Monday nights). That's were the dialogue is meaningless and all the communication is in gesture and intonation. I can't even begin to remember all the great stuff we did. It was exciting, stimulating, surprising, a bit scary (well actually very scary at times) and absolutely hilarious. We've been doing some Improv in my acting class, but nothing like this. Over half of my class is nineteen years of age and under. The collective life experience is about room temperature. (Prom queens and imitations of parents when you come home late with the car!) This workshop consisted of adults of all ages. Just when I thought I was totally exhausted, I put it into overdrive and came up with some rather good stuff and just let myself go. Next time I looked at the clock, over two hours had gone by and I wasn't feeling tired a bit. I was definitely pumped...and stayed that way until I finally reached home 40 minutes later.

Monday evening...our first dress rehearsal, but without audience.

Kathy, the costume designer wanted us at the theatre by 6:00p.m. Petticoats flew, irons were blasting steam, people with 16 1/2" necks were choking on 15" collars. Some guy runs by with the most interesting plaid boxer shorts I've ever seen wearing no shirt but a rather nice tie. The curling irons are glowing and bobby pins are being stuck into recalcitrant locks. A snap is quickly sewn onto a skirt closure. Michael the hairdresser appears with a bag of goodies. Too bad, he's just there for the guys who need a trim, so their wigs and hats will look decent. Jack has already shorn off his wild long locks the day before. We're still in shock at the sight of this muscular-necked man with a magnificent jaw instead of a bedraggled bedhead. Kathy pulls out boxes of make-up; blush, foundation, mascara, cotton pads and puff balls. Amy still is trying to figure out her costume, which skirt goes with which top for the Act III evening wear. I struggle with a ridiculous petticoat that seems to be made with wire mesh and it feels like it's ripping up my legs, hips and backside. Turns out it's doing exactly that! My nylons are in shreds!!! No more petticoats left! I do the rehearsal without one and hope one magically appears by Wednesday. Never in my life would I ever imagine I would desperately wish for a good huge petticoat again! But it's not for me! It's for Donna Lucia!

Finally we all troop and trip down the three flights of stairs for our director's briefing. He's pumped and excited tonight. He tries to cover over the fact that our lighting director has been pummeled by an Alaskan Malamute she was pet-sitting and is laid up with a bad back (no punctures fortunately). Our stage manager is coming in late as well, so the director is doing several jobs. An interesting piece of theatre etiquette I've learned; when the stage manager comes back stage and announces "Five minutes to places," you respond "thank you five minutes". It accomplishes two things, it acknowledges that you indeed heard the call and it also passes it throughout the cast back stage. So even if you didn't hear the stage manager, if you hear "Thank you two minutes" you repeat it down the line. Cute hey? At first I thought I sounded like a ridiculous school child, "Thank you two minutes." Now I automatically say it, thankful for the notice and happy to pass it on. The final call: "Places everyone". "Thank you places."

There are no prompts at this rehearsal. If you forget a line, make it up, or hope that someone will throw you a line or cover for you. Everyone is off book, no prompts, a few silent holes here and there but Act I comes off just fine. I'm ready for my entrance in Act II. Not caring how I look, I nod my head and let my body go limp. This is a relaxation exercise I learned in class. Shaking all the tension and anxiety off through my arms, I let it drip off the tips of my fingers. In the background I hear my cue. My head comes up, my back arches and gracefully I extend my arms. Suzanne no longer exists. With shoulder back, I smile and slowly turn my head. "Come Ella," says Donna Lucia offering her arm to her orphaned ward.

We have just a couple of people as our audience, but it's enough for me. I feel absolutely electric as we come on stage. My concentration is so intense I have no idea people are laughing, I only muse to myself the funny things I'm saying and doing. Sir Francis makes his entrance and totally flubs his first line. I just took back at him in total earnest and he quickly recovers. In rehearsal I would have been in stitches, but I'm Donna Lucia now and this man is truly fascinating to me. There is one line he usually forgets. When we get to it, I turn and see a blank look of terror in his eyes. His has forgotten his line. Without missing a beat I ask him a leading question that just naturally seemed to pop into my mind. It's a life line, he grabs it, pops out his line with such enthusiasm and genuine feeling that we're all energized. Nothing has ever been this exciting in rehearsal before. None of us have ever been this good, and  it feels really great!

Our first scene is over and all the weeks of hard work, tortuous readings, agonizing over lines, feelings, blocking and intense schedules and brain-wracking hard work suddenly drop away. I'm on an incredible high that a pharmacist in his wildest dreams could match. The excitement is palpable. I'm dancing on a tight rope and I'm not even thinking about looking down. Concentrate.

Back stage, well into the second act, I notice that the house is suddenly quiet. Deadly quiet. Why is no one speaking their lines? I rush over to a translucent curtain and see one of the girls sitting by herself on the stage. Where is her guy? Oh no! What's happening? Suddenly loud angry footsteps. "I'm sorry!" He's is back. Book in hand. He's goes on and finishes the scenes, perfectly. He's furious with himself, angry beyond belief...but the tension is doing nothing to help him remember his lines. I'm just hoping to some deity that when I drop a line someone is there to help me pick it up! That's okay, we still have one more rehearsal and tomorrow is a day of rest. He'll get it down, it's just that life will be a bother  until he does. No one can possibly beat him up as much as he will himself.

They say there are six things an actor must have; Trust in himself and his fellow actors, Freedom to live outside yourself and become another character, Preparation of and in life to know as much as you can and be able to draw upon it, Discipline to the play and the cast to be at rehearsal on time and know your lines, Criticism being able to accept it and finally Relaxation both mental and physical. Being an actor is very very very hard work!

There is a short five minute break between Act II and III. I'm still pumped and demanding attention from Sir Francis. Back stage we quickly rehearse our big scene and find two small but important improvements. The pace is quick, people running on and off. Ella and I make our entrance, I play my lines like I never have before. They have a whole new meaning when given with such intensity. On and off we go. Every time I hit the back stage I'm ready to jump ten feet in the air I'm so pumped. We're pulling it off. Sir Francis and I go back for our big scene and he feeds off my excitement. In our final move, he takes it one step further than any rehearsal and comes up with a masterful gesture. How exciting! Oh I love this stuff!

We come to the final scene, the one I usually crack up laughing and lose it because of one very amusing line. I'm so intense and concentrating so hard I don't even care that someone has accidentally handed me the wrong prop, a business card instead of a letter. Normally I would have been in stitches, but I treat it as the document that holds poor Kitty future, with respect. I fly through the scene, keeping the fast pace and before I know it...the light are out. End of play. We made it!

Still much to be done. Lines to learn. Costumes have to be finished. But I feel good. Donna Lucia is mine. She performed like never before. Ella is amazed and says so "You've never been this good!" she whispered back stage. Donna Lucia simply smiles at her. "And you're a perfect butterfly out there Ella." And she is, my angelic little ward.

The director gives us a great critique and compliments. He's kind about the lost lines. He gives me wonderful direction; stop my nervous playing with my voluminous lace skirt. "Simply put your hands in my lap and lay a trap for the impostor. You're the cat about to pounce on the mouse." Meoooooowwww, I know just what he means.

Tuesday we go black. No rehearsal, unless someone wants to. It will be my day to rest. I need it! The theatre will be quiet. Wednesday is our dress rehearsal with some selected audience. Although the director can stop us, he probably won't. It will be our first performance.

Yours deciding to use her real baroque pearl necklace instead of paste,
Suzanne & Cassis (It helps put her in the mood!)

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