Twists and Turns

After an abbreviated morning run (I'm a working actor, after all, I don't have time to spend all day just exercising!), I got to rehearsal a few minutes early to go over the days material. I knew that the "Bill - Sophie" scene was on the docket, and I always like to look look over a scene before I go into rehearsal (I know that should be a no brainer, but you'd be surprised).
I walked in the door and it was everything I had hoped and feared it would be. We spent the first hour just discussing, again, the nature of the relationship between Bill and Sophie - how he knows her, what he knows about her, her past, her mothers past, and whether or not, ultimately, he is or might be her father. Wanna know my personal opinion? I think he's the actual father. Shy of a paternity test, the evidence points most favorably, or in his case, a bit shockingly unfavorably, in his direction. But it was some wonderful investigation and opened even more the mysteries of the script. (I can't believe I'm using those two phrases in the same sentence - Mamma Mia and "mysteries of the script", but when you get down to it, it's true. The play is really a mystery of, as we like to joke, "Who's your Daddy?")

When we finally read through it the first time, with sweet Alyse and I just sitting there, looking at each other and reading through the scene simply, unencumbered with any direction or props or sets or anything more than a basic understanding of what the scene is about, it was everything I could do not to fall apart! She started singing this song (Name Of The Game) of yearning, of hope, of desperation, looking to me for the answers, demanding to know them, and, since the song provides only so many lyrics and most of them belong to her, I could do nothing but reply non verbally, which is not easy to do. I wanted to help her. I wanted to give her the answer she so longed to hear, but I could only communicate through silence, which might actually say more than words. It was simple and beautiful and intimate, and in the end we decided that the actual playing of the scene, once we get to a stage with lights and sets and props, will probably play very similar to this. That is as an intimate, simple, beautiful scene about possible father and yearning daughter struggling to connect. We left it there for the day, knowing the next time we visit the scene, there will be more knowledge to bring to the table.

Next up was Allison and I - more Rosie and Bill work, and we had another blast. We continued with the pre-wedding scene and I discovered, in a great way, that Bill comes to this Island with a fairly banal idea of what's to come. He's merely a writer and an interested "third party", though, having had a "biblical" relationship with the leading lady Donna many years ago, he's not completely without interest. But what happens to him throughout his stay here leaves him in a constant state of befuddlement and confusion. He seems to enter each scene with a certain knowledge about something, only to have that knowledge, what he thinks he knows, turned upside down, leaving him in a constant state of confusion. Knowing that, and discovering that, was like a small light bulb going off for me. As an actor I find the constant battle of trying to stay "on course" or sticking to my "objective, as they say, and battling the things or obstacles that get in my way, to be the most fun. Fighting the adversity, looking for a different tack, walking around in a perpetual state of confusion, though it's tricky to play, can be the most fun. And it's a fine line playing it, cause if you're not careful you can fall into either A: a very muddled performance that confuses not only you, the actor, but the audience as well, or B: it just comes off as comical and two dimensional. The one thing I like to pride myself on as an actor is "keeping it real". I try and keep the character, no matter how crazy the situation may be, grounded and real. It's what often makes, I feel, for better theater. We ended this session, literally, on the floor in what may be the most physically demanding part of the show - for Allison and I.

And speaking of physical - OMG!, as my teenage daughter would say. Men and women over 40 were never meant to move this way! I'm dying over here! I am absolutely exhausted (of course, it doesn't help that I ran 5 miles before rehearsal) because the rest of the day - nearly 4 hours of it - were spent learning the dance to "Voulez-Vous"! I understand that the best way to learn the dance, especially considering we were missing actors and dancers and we're piecing it together, is to do it in sections, but this made it all the more confusing. (See, more confusion, what did I tell you!) So we start the movement a third of the way through the song and (God Bless the patience and understanding of our dance captain Janet and her assistants Ryan and Tony) I was completely lost. I put on a good face and made it look like I knew what I was doing, but that was all a front. (As I said in a past post, I revoked my "Dancers Union of America" card long ago) Twists and turns and stomp steps and arms flailing and more twists and turns on gyrations and counting. Counting, counting, COUNTING! I can't be expected to sing (Oh yeah, did I mention, we SING while we're counting and dancing!) - I can't be expected to sing AND dance AND count AND act! For God's sake, I'm only one man! And let me tell you, it was painful! I can run 5-8 miles in a day, no problem, but ask me to dance for 10 minutes - I'm a frickin basket case! And I wasn't alone. I won't name names (Beth, Allison, David, basically any of us over 40) but there were others who struggled as well. Twisting and turning - all I can say is anyone out there over 40, or even near 40 (or under 40 but can appreciate 40!) who comes to see the show better get on your feet and give us a damn standing ovation at the end of this number! Did I mention the twisting? And the Turning? And the jumping? I know I sound like an old man, but I left that rehearsal aching in places I didn't know I could ache. I walked down my street after and saw my friends Manny and Elsie who asked how I was doing.
(Nearly out of breathe) "...Exhausted from dancing..."
Loving and kind neighbors that I have, that laughed in my face so loud I could hardly react. they seemed to think my pain and anguish was merely provided for their enjoyment. (I have to say, it was pretty funny.)

In spite of all the hard work, did I fail to mention how much fun it was!? I don't want to leave you with the impression that I don't enjoy this, because I do, deeply. At the end of the day, I wouldn't give it up for anything - except, maybe, some vicodin.

Tomorrow my friend John arrives and our cast is nearly complete. I'm looking forward to that. And I don't think I have to dance, but, like a boy scout, I'm always prepared...