Opening Night!

After a journey that spans many years, and in the short term just over a week, the morning of Tuesday 28 March dawned bright, clear and warm.  We had arrived at our opening day. 

Jeffrey has suggested that we meet at 3.30 to go through some notes from the dress rehearsal, and the inevitable tweaks to the blocking, sound and light, but I had most of the day to myself.

I spent the morning strolling through downtown Minneapolis, admiring the glass buildings that reflected the clear blue sky to such an extent that they seemed to disappear into it.  Everywhere were shimmering and distorted images:  Minneapolis is really a most beautiful city.

 

 

The main purpose of my visit was to buy thank you cards for everyone, and I was relieved to find that Barnes and Nobel was still open.  Macy’s across the street had now closed its doors for good and the building looked forlorn and neglected.  I found a box of notecards with a simple quill and ink stand design (actually, the same ones I used two years ago), which were perfect for my purpose.

Back at the apartment I started to write all of the cards.  After a little bit of online research I found a letter that Charles Dickens had written to his wife on Julyl 16 1849, which read:

“I have taken a most delightful and beautiful house belonging to White, at Bonchurch -cool, airy, private bathing, everything delicious…..A waterfall on the grounds, which I have arranged with a carpenter to convert into a perpetual shower bath.” 

This relates to so much that is in the play, and I set to copying this fragment into each card, followed by a personal note of thanks for Dennis, Jeffrey, Rosalie, Ben, Michael, Bob, Michael and Kasey: the team that has created this wonderful little piece of theatre.

My scribing was interrupted a few times by emails from the marketing guru at The Hennepin Trust, informing me of an ever-growing number of television and radio interviews in the coming days, which is great news for all of us.  Although the show is produced by The Daniel Group (Dennis and Rosalie’s production company), it is being presented under the auspices of The Hennepin Theatre Trust which is a huge organisation promoting theatre in the Twin Cities.  Having such a large and powerful group behind us is fantastic for our marketing, as we can reach the many thousands of social media followers as well as tap into the extensive media contacts.  All of this should mean that the word will be getting around Minneapolis throughout the next week.

Come 3.30 I was at the theatre, and soon was pacing through a few of the scenes as Jeffrey very carefully placed me on the stage – ‘half a step downstage.  A touch to your right.  Do we have a tiny light change there?’  It is a lovely feeling to be concentrating on such minutiae just a few days after working out the much broader blocking: ‘walk all the way past the furniture to the right of the stage and say the line there’.  Now, whether I was capable of remembering these tiny moves during the performance itself we would have to see.

As we finished our rehearsals Dennis came into the auditorium and gave us all opening night presents: Charles Dickens Action Figures, complete with removable top hat, and clasping a quill pen!  Quite brilliant, and the funny thing is that the coat he is wearing is exactly the same shade as the smoking jacket I wear in scene two.  What a great opening night gift.

I distributed my cards, and Dennis was completely shocked to see that the date of the letter was his birthday (not the 1849 part, of course, just the 16 July)

The afternoon wore on, and I ate my salad in the dressing room, before placing myself in Kasey’s hands for the application of the wig. Then into costume, and I was ready with twenty minutes to go.

Outside my dressing room I could hear the mumble and buzz of the audience arriving, and then the noise subsided as they made their way into the theatre itself.  Pacing, whispering lines, striking poses.  Wanting it all to begin.

With five minutes to go Ben gave me the nod and I made my long way to the back of the hall.  This journey consists of leaving my dressing room, going upstairs, through the Daniel Group’s offices, across a landing, up a small flight of stairs, into the balcony, where I could look down on the audience and set.  A quick ‘break a leg’ from Michael the Light, and then into another landing, down a long flight of stairs and into a small vestibule at the back of the sanctuary, where I waited.

There were a few stragglers, so the countdown was held for a few minutes.  Still pacing, still whispering.  I peered through a small clear pane in the elaborate stained glass door and could see my central aisle stretching down to the stage. The house lights went down, and the welcome announcement played.

Only seconds to go now.

And then a family sat near the back decided that as the show was about to start they could probably move further forward, so they all stood up and shuffled into the aisle – right in front of me, right where I was about to stride to the stage.  My route was blocked!

Fortunately the very attentive front of house manager spotted the situation instantly and encouraged them to re-take their seats and they reluctantly shuffled back just as the first bell tolled and I could begin my journey un-hindered.

Oh, it felt good to be on stage.  It felt good to hear the laughs and the reactions.  It felt good to be in control and to know what I was doing.  There were no horrible blanks of mind or fumblings around.  There were no awful moments when I found myself in the wrong waistcoat, or jacket, or that a prop wasn’t where it should be.  Everything ran as it should do.  All of those mornings in my apartment with the coffee table, chairs and hanging rail, as well as all of those afternoons with Jeffrey and the team in the theatre itself, had paid off.

Charles Dickens engaged with the audience and they took him to their hearts.

Finally, after 90 minutes on stage, I said the last line of the play and the lights went out.  When they came up again, the audience were on their feet clapping and cheering.  Not a big audience for our opening night, but such an enthusiastic and appreciative one.  I bowed gratefully and left the stage.

Back in my dressing room I quickly changed into a dry shirt, assisted by Bob, and then went into the huge meeting space, where a desk had been set up for me to sign autographs and meet members of the audience.

People were ecstatic about the show, and in one case moved to tears, and loved to talk about Charles Dickens and our portrayal of him and his family.  Each person in line promised to tell friends, family and colleagues about the show and that is the best marketing we can get.  Go forth, and spread the word!

When the last of the audience members had left I went back to the dressing room, where Kasey was waiting patiently for me, so that she could help me out of the wig, and return it to its block where it is carefully pinned so that it retains the correct shape.

I said good bye to the rest of the team, and Ben joked that the audience hadn’t enjoyed it, that was obvious because they all stood up as soon as it was finished!

And so, To Begin With has begun, but this is only the start of the story, for we have three weeks of performances to go yet, and no doubt there will be disasters and issues, and flagging energy levels, as well as fantastic electric performances where everything hits the mark:  that is the wonder of live theatre, and that is why I love what I do.

I hope that you have enjoyed being alongside me as the production has come together over the past ten days.  I will not be posting new blogs every day now, but be assured I shall keep you up to date with the progress of the show, up until our last night on Saturday 15 April.

And if you do know anyone in the Twin Cities – drop them a line!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dress Rehearsal

And here we are: the day of the dress rehearsal – to all intents and purposes the first night, but there were still things to be done: 

The day started with a radio interview for FAITH radio, and that meant being over in Dennis’ office (also in the Old Wesley Center) by 8.30.  It was strange to be the only person in the building, and I sat for a few minutes in the darkened auditorium just soaking up the remarkable atmosphere.  There is something quite magical about an empty theatre, and I love just sitting and almost connecting to the building itself.  I know, that’s all a bit new age and fanciful, but it feels nice!

Up in the office, surrounded by pictures of myself, the phone call came in at exactly 8.45, and soon I was chatting to the show’s host Bill Arnold.  As well as his radio work Bill is a comedian and magician and is one of scriptwriters and original cast members of the brilliant show Triple Espresso, which is also produced by Dennis and the Daniel Group, so we had a great deal in common to begin with.

We chatted for around twenty minutes, and I talked about Charles Dickens’ childhood, The Life of Our Lord, Dickens’ beliefs and faith, my tours and of course the show itself.  It was a very nice interview, very conversational and not too scripted.

 

Hardly posed, at all!

 

Back in the apartment I did my morning run of the play, and when it was finished made a huge decision: I decided that I no longer needed the set to be laid out, and so the pieces of furniture were returned to their correct places, and the wooden hanging rail to its cupboard.  I will still run the lines each day, but I am confident of the moves now.

After the rehearsal it was down to the gym, as it was a running day, and this time my efforts were accompanied by Liz’s CD.  My run was a syncopated one, as The Entertainer, The Maple Leaf Rag, The Magnetic Rag and Solace took me through my workout.

Our rehearsal was called at 2.30, and there was a tangible sense of anticipation in the theatre as everyone worked on their particular area of the show.  Jeffrey and I went over a few minor points of blocking and movement, and then worked with Ben and Michael on tweaking the timings of some sound cues, but all in all it wasn’t too arduous.

At 4.30 we broke for ‘dinner’ (a salad in my case), and then started to build up to the performance itself.

The first thing to be done was to get the wig fitted, as my costume shirts go over my head, and today I had three sets of hands fussing over me.  So that there is always someone on hand who knows what they are doing Tricia (the lady who made the wig) trained Bob and Kasey, to fit it and in turn they are tonight training Callista who did hair and make-up (as well as danced and sang) in the production of Mary Poppins I saw last week.

The wig was tight and secure when they had finished, and it felt good to be Dickens again.

I was actually ready with an hour to go, as we had left plenty of time in case of any emergencies, so I paced around, did some lines, played some backgammon, chatted with various members of the team.  I checked the set, and made sure that all of the props and costumes were in the right place, and then waited.

Being a dress rehearsal it was treated as a full performance and the members of the crew (Jeffrey, Michael, Ben, Michael, Bob, Dennis, Rosalie, Kasey, Callista ) spread themselves out in the auditorium.  Dennis’ wife Anne and her mother and sister also came along to watch, so there was a nice smattering of audience throughout the house.

It was a good, powerful, run, with no major upsets:  a real positive end to our rehearsal period.  From my point of view it was great to have an audience, and to hear the laughter and feel the emotion.  Suddenly long-forgotten pieces of timing came back to me, and I could really engage with the people listening to the story.

Costume changes worked, props ended up in the right place, sound effects and music hit their marks: all in all it was a thoroughly enjoyable 90 minutes!

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When I came off stage Jeffrey said ‘Congratulations, great job. Get changed, go home, get drunk!’  We will go through his notes tomorrow, but all in all there was a very positive mood in the Old Wesley Center. 

Kasey helped me off with the wig, removing the many thousands of pins and grips, until the top of my head could breathe once more.  Once released from Mr Dickens senior I changed, listened into a few of the technical notes that Jeffrey was giving and then slipped away back to my apartment for a plate of ravioli before bed.

There is an old adage in the theatre which says: ‘a bad dress rehearsal means a good opening night’.  Well, that is usually bandied about to boost the flagging morale of a company that has just suffered a nightmare of a rehearsal, when everything has gone wrong.  I prefer my own adage: ‘a good dress rehearsal means that you are ready for a great run’.

Bring it on!

 

The Final Stages

Sunday, 26 March.  D day minus 2.

 

We are very definitely in the final stages of preparation for the performance itself now.  From here on in there will be no major changes (although there have been very few big alterations to the show since we started rehearsing just over a week ago), and we must fettle the performance to as near perfection as we can collectively manage.

Sunday, as regular readers will know, is a difficult day for us, as the Wesley center reverts to its natural use during the day, meaning that Ben and Bob and Michael had to clear the entire set on Saturday night.  We all had to wait until 2pm before we could do any meaningful work (although I had done my customary morning run through in my apartment).

As soon as the morning service had ended operation To Begin With swung into action and the three large picture windows, a leather chair, a table, a chaise longue, a pouffe, and various canes, coats, robes, hats and waistcoats were carefully moved into their correct places.  Once more had the Old Wesley Centre been transformed into Winterbourne House, Bonchurch, Isle of White, Hampshire, England: the summer residence of Mr Chas. Dickens Esq.

In the meantime I was getting into costume, which included a few last minutes tweaks thanks to Bob’s assiduity.  At one point in the script I am required to pull two handkerchiefs from my shirt cuffs with a flourish (as a magician might do), and that requires them being carefully hidden in my sleeves for the majority of the play.  Unfortunately the shirt cuffs are a little loose, so the hankies have been slipping out long before they were needed.  Bob, therefore, had made a couple of elastic bands that fit tightly round my wrists in which the linen can be gripped until the required moment.

Once fully attired (to tie my cravat I have to use the mirror in a small restroom, and the movement of my arms always sets off the automatic paper towel dispenser!), I made my way to the theatre where everyone was ready for our 2.30 start.  This really felt like a full dress rehearsal: no stops, no hesitating, no re-working sound cues – it was do it, or bust.

I felt a great surge sense of nervous anticipation and energy as I waited at the back of the hall, which increased a step as the opening music began.  I waited for the chiming bells, and marched down the central aisle, up the steps (didn’t trip up them) and found myself in blazing light ready to begin.

It was a very good run.  Oh, it was hot under the full glare of the lights, and I could feel the moisture on my brow, which I hope wont effect the security of my wig during the actual shows.

I was very pleased with the performance, which ran incredibly smoothly from all departments – sound cues were perfect, lighting was subtle and atmospheric, costume changes went smoothly and the lines were about as good as I have ever got them.

It was so nice to do a full 90-minute run, without breaking for notes in the middle, and to get a real sense of the flow.  We have a really really good show on our hands, there is no doubt about that.

As soon as we had finished, it was time to convert Winterbourne back into a church again, for the evening service so as Ben and Michael and Bob heaved furniture around, I got changed before heading upstairs to Dennis’ office where we went through all of the notes.

Of course what an actor (and I presume a sound and lighting engineer) wants to hear more than anything is: ‘perfect, nothing to say, keep it like that!’  but naturally that never happens, there is always something that can be improved and tweaked. 

We sat and listened as Jeffrey ran through scene by scene, and we took our own notes (I will sit and study mine over breakfast).  Dennis chimed in with his observations and comments and we made some slight revisions to the script so as to reflect the true meaning of the gospels rather than the simplified version that Dickens provided for his children (for example, in The Life Of Our Lord Dickens announced that King Herod ordered all the children under the age of two years in his dominions to be killed, whereas in fact he ordered all the male children in Bethlehem to be killed – one extra word in the script and we have corrected a historical inaccuracy).

With the notes finished we all went our separate ways – mine took me to the nearby Brits Pub for dinner where I had, what else? but Bangers and Mash!

 

Technical Matters

Saturday was a quiet day in To Begin With land, as Jeffrey once more was away in Arizona, so there was never going to be a large rehearsal.  However our lighting designer Michael Klaers had just returned from his few days in Los Angeles so our job would be to let him get all of his cues sorted out.

As my call was not until 2pm I could spend the morning following what has become a well-grooved routine: I had breakfast, did a complete mini performance of the show in my apartment and the went to the gym for my every-other-day-run-and-swim.  As I pounded the treadmill I was listening to the greatest hits of Paul Simon, but the television in front of me was showing an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine with subtitles, so I was able to enjoy the adventures from the Isle of Sodor accompanied by Me and Juilo.  I don’t know if there is an America narrator for Thomas here, but in my mind it was dear old Ringo Starr doing the voices.

The rehearsal itself was a good session, and even though it was very much a technical run of the show, with lots of stops and re-tweakings of effects, it didn’t seem nearly as frustrating as previous days.  I suppose that this was always slated to be a technical rehearsal, so it was in that frame of mind that I went into it.

There are not that many lighting effects for Michael to use in this version of the show, in that there are not many lights!  The Old Wesley Center is short on electricity, so we are confined to 4 LED lanterns in the balcony and 4 strips of footlights on the stage itself.  The balcony lights are of the sort than can be swung around and controlled remotely, and as Michael was setting them it was as if we were in London during the blitz, with searchlights sweeping across the skies.

The whole technical process is so amazing now.  In my day (I may as well say ‘in the old days’), the lighting designer would be sat behind a huge desk of sliding dimmers, each one controlling one light, or maybe a preset collection of lights.  Some would have lamps would have had coloured gels in to create different atmospheres on stage – steel for cold and eerie, amber or rose for warmth.  Some very flashy theatres may have had lights with auto change gels, so the colour could be changed from the desk.  The lighting man would have a script and at the correct cue he would trigger the light changes.

Next to the lighting man would be the sound effects guy, with his own large desk filled with what seemed to be an impossible number of little knobs to twiddle.  He too would have a script and make sure that the effects were triggered at the right moment.  Hopefully light and sound would get on well together, and present a unified technical operation for the audiences.

Nowadays all of the cues (light and sound) are built into a single computer programme created specifically for the show.  Over the past few days Ben and Michael Croswell (our composer) have been building up the soundscape, which has proved to be an incredibly complicated but impressive operation.  Each effect is made up of many layers of recording, any one of which can be enhanced or softened in relation to all of the others, until the mix is exactly what is required.  Some effects are purely ambient sound, for instance the washing of the waves on the shore, or a busy ferry port, whilst others are much more specific to the action – a door knock or a donkey bray maybe.  The programme allows for the former to be playing under the spoken words whilst the latter can be triggered on the exact vocal cue, which has the happy result that I don’t have to be a robot.

 

A series of sound effects from scene 4:  all of this for about three lines of dialogue!

 

Now Michael The Light went through the show and carefully programmed all of his cues too.  The great advantage of the LED lights is that can be automatically changed to any colour we need, without the complicated and fiddly changing of gels: warm glow – hit a button and it is there.  Cold, chilly night exterior – click, and we are shivering. As Michael created each scene he was able to link them precisely into Ben and Michael’s master programme.  All of this means that when the show is actually being performed everything can be controlled by Ben from his MacBook.

The original idea was just to hop from cue to cue, so I didn’t bother to get into costume (although I did use the various waistcoats and jackets for some of the quick changes), however as it turned out we practically did a complete run through, as between sound and light there are very few moments in the show that nothing is happening.  We stopped a few times and went back over some complicated moments, but it actually felt a very useful and productive session.

Bob, our production designer was also there, and as I was getting ready to leave he very kindly gave me a bag of choc-chip cookies made by his wife Mary so that I would have something homely and comforting in my apartment, which was incredibly generous and thoughtful of them both.  Bob has been a great asset to the show, he sits quietly watching and when any issue with props or costume comes up he quietly solves it, or suggests a way in which it might be solved. 

One example of Bob’s attention to detail was the case of the shoulder-pads: during one scene I have to change into a new waistcoat and jacket, the latter of which had shoulder pads sewn in.  On a couple of occasions as I tried to slide my arm in, whilst continuing with the lines, my hand got caught in the pads meaning I was fighting with the garment.  No fuss.  No great hoo-hah.  In yesterday’s rehearsal I came to the change and discovered that the pads had been removed, and that it was easy to slip the coat on.  Bob is a true pro and, as with all of the others involved in this project, is a complete pleasure to work with.

And now we are in the final stages of our rehearsals: we open on Tuesday evening, so we just have Sunday and Monday left to bring it to perfection.  It is very very exciting!

 

 

Live Theatre – a Wonderful Thing

Friday dawned to reveal the first cloudy and miserable day that I have seen so far on my stay.  The early rush hour traffic’s lights were reflected against wet roads, providing a light show more akin to my Christmas tour. 

The routine has become fairly well set now, and as the rehearsal was not called until 1pm, I had the morning to myself.  I ate my customary breakfast of Muesli topped with blueberries, raspberries and banana whilst reading through Jeffrey’s notes from the last rehearsal, so I could incorporate them into  my morning run through of the play.

My temporary set had become more elaborate as the days have gone on, and for this rehearsal I discovered that I could remove a length of wooden dowelling from the coat hanging space, which became one of the walking canes that Dickens uses as a prop through the show.  Quite apart from the lines and the basic movements on stage, Jeffrey has directed in an awful lot of ‘business’ and it is vital for me to ensure that the various props end up in the correct place on the stage, ready to be used again.

 

Scarf and Pole, ready to go

 

The run was one of the best I have done in my apartment: the lines were accurate, whilst my scarf (representing a scarf), and my coat hanging rail (representing the walking cane) both ended up in the right places.  I am very pleased with the direction that everything is heading.

After my excesses of exercise the day before I gave the gym a miss, as my running programme calls for a session every second day.  I have to be totally honest with you and confess that I was rather lazy for the rest of the morning, and spent a lot of time following the breaking news about the background of the  London terrorist (a story that was much closer to home than I had first realised).

At noon I made myself some poached eggs on toast, and then gathered my things in preparation for our afternoon rehearsal.

I was hopeful that we may be able to launch straight into a complete run through of the play again, and may even have time for a second, after notes, but those plans were foiled by yet another session going through sound effects, some of which had been tweaked or changed since last we went through them.  I have to say, that this time my patience was wearing a bit thin, but I kept myself to myself and let the process play out, until Jeffrey announced himself satisfied with the effects and we were at last ready to run.

This would be the first run through using the costumes, and I would have to be changing clothes for real, where in the past I have been miming, so I was anxious to discover if our timings had been right.

The play opens with Dickens in an angry mood, and the frustrations of sitting around in costume for an hour were positively used to create a very strong beginning to this performance.  Actually the show went well, and I was pleased with the progress I have made since our last run through.  Naturally there are still a few places I want it to be tighter, but everything seemed to run smoothly – even the costume changes.

We stopped after scene 3, and Jeffrey gave us all a few notes, before picking up the action at the big costume change: everything sort of ended up in the right place, but it was a bit clumsy and rushed, so I need to work on that.

The second act – sorry, scene 4 – went well too.  I was a little off colour at the start of it, due to the break, but was soon back into the story with a great intensity, that bodes well for the coming weeks.

With the run finished we only had a short time for notes, fortunately of which there weren’t many anyway, before Dennis appeared to whisk me away for an evening treat.

Dennis lectures at the University of Northwestern at St Paul, and my visit happens to coincide with their production of Mary Poppins, so Dennis had bought tickets for me, his wife Ann and her mother Betty to go and see it.

There is something so exciting in watching students perform – such energy, such commitment and such passion for the show, but this was just something else!  It was easy to forget that we were watching an amateur show cast purely with young adults – this could have been a fully professional touring production

To begin with (now, that’s an idea for a title….), the sets were incredible, either being flown in or moved around the stage on trucks.  Most amazing was the kitchen scene, which destroyed itself as the Banks children tried to make cake icing.  As we watched, the shelves slipped, plates fell, the table broke in two an iron chimney flue fell from the wall and the scene was a complete wreck.  But one ‘Spit Spot’ from Mary and everything righted itself again before our very eyes.

The ensemble numbers were all beautifully choreographed and perfectly performed, but standing out above everything was Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, which filled the stage with noise, energy and colour.  The choreographer has created a sort of turbocharged YMCA dance on steroids – every performer created every letter of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in an ever faster and more manic whirl during which no one seemed to lose time or concentration.  It was one of those moments that exhausted the audience as well as the performers as we cheered and stamped and clapped.

Finally was the flying: of course Mary Poppins has to fly with her umbrella held aloft, but I had not been prepared for Bert to casually stroll up the side of the proscenium arch (parallel to the ground), and when he reached the top turn, and walk (upside down, now), across the top of the arch whilst still tap dancing and singing, and all of this as the sweeps of London belted their way through ‘Step in Time’ beneath him.  Whew.

I do tend to get rather emotional when I can see how much energy and love has been put into a show like this, and I unashamedly was wiping tears from my eyes as the cast took their curtain call to a boisterous standing ovation which became even more boisterous when Mary flew from the Heavens to take her bow.

A stunning, stunning show, and one that reaffirmed the sheer joy of live theatre. 

 

 

 

 

Welcome Back

And so time pushes inexorably on towards our opening night next Tuesday.  Yesterday was a rather unbalanced day in that Jeffrey was not due back from Arizona until 4pm, so the rehearsal call was a late one.

In the morning, after breakfast, I ran my customary private rehearsal in the apartment, and was delighted to find that those lines, which I worked so hard at the day before, had by and large stuck in my memory.

With the rehearsal finished I decided to ‘do’ fitness, and got a little carried away.  I went down to the gym on the 4^th floor of the building, and completed my running programme successfully and then, mainly thanks to the mirrored walls, thought it would be a good idea to do a series of stomach-crunching sit-ups.  I lay back on the inclined bench, hooked my feet under the roller and forced myself from the recumbent to the upright as many times I could – and then a few more.  That done, into the pool for a series of non-stop 10-length bursts.

When I had finished, I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t talk. 

Maybe I should take things just a little bit easier in future days, after all a one-man show featuring one man who can’t move or talk is not going to wow the Minneapolis crowds.

Having calmed down for a while I walked to the store and stocked up on a few things, before returning to slump on the settee and eat a salad for lunch.

There was still a few hours to go before the official rehearsal, so I did a little more work on the script before having a shower and generally energising myself again.

Jeffrey had made good time with his flight, and was already in the theatre when I arrived at 4.  We chatted over a few things that had occurred to us both, for example, by entering from the rear of the theatre it suggests that Dickens is coming in from outside – should he, therefore have his top hat and cane with him?  Do we have a hat that will fit over the wig?  What do I do with the items once I get to the stage, as the opening lines of the show are spoken immediately and with great power directly to the audience?  We came to the conclusion that it will be awkward to have them, so assume that he has cast them aside as he came into the hallway downstairs.

The open shirt issue is another discussion point.  Jeffrey has been suggesting for a few days that I play the final scene, in which Charles is rehearsing, with an open-necked shirt, in a rather flamboyant, Byronical way.  I had argued that Dickens was a stickler for his appearance and would be properly attired, but the more I thought about it, the more Jeffrey’s idea made sense.  Dickens was a man of the theatre, and actually I am sure would metaphorically have rolled his sleeves up, and physically divested himself of his cravat to rehearse.  Also the white open shirt matched with the pale linen trousers will create a powerful and familiar image as he portrays Jesus performing miracles preaching on the mount and leading his Disciples.  Finally, it will give me one less thing to fiddle with during the scene 3-4 costume change, which is proving awkward.

We decided between us to look at the open shirt when the costumes arrived and then consult with Dennis for final approval.

And at that moment – the costumes arrived, and so did the furniture for the set. Dennis, Bob and Ben had been at The Guthrie Theatre rental department picking up everything we used two years ago, although there were a few changes.  On the original set we featured a large, circular pouf downstage, but unfortunately this had been re-covered in a very modern fabric so was no good to us anymore.  The replacement, which was the only vaguely suitable piece of furniture there, is smaller, square and features gold fabric and tassels.  It doesn’t look quite right, and we may need to mount a search of Minneapolis for a more appropriate replacement.

The wonderful leather and oak armchair is back, as is the wooden side table, but a new item on the set is a heavy wooden hat stand, with brass ‘buckets’ to hold walking canes. 

In the old show each costume change was carried out in a black out, meaning that the various items could be hidden in storage boxes which had been cleverly built into the large window frames at the back of the set.  With no blackouts available to us at The Wesley, Dickens now has to change ‘naturally’, so the various smoking jackets and waistcoats and cravats have to be on the set.

For almost an hour we worked out how to hang the various coats so that: a) the set looks pleasing to the audience as they arrive, and b) I can reach them easily during the changes.  One annoyingly reflective waistcoat caused the most trouble, but we sorted it out in the end by hanging it between the jacket and the waistcoat of the cranberry-coloured ‘Portsmouth suit’.

As our attention naturally turned to costumes  Bob told us that the linen suit I wore in the opening scenes of the play (and which looked so good), was badly stained, and that he almost didn’t bring it, but a quick inspection of it showed that it was no worse than before, and that the stains didn’t show under the lights anyway.

I tried the suit on and it fitted perfectly (it must have been those sit-ups this morning), and it felt good to be wearing it again.  We then worked through the costume changes one by one, working out where the discarded coats etc should go. 

Finally we tried the open shirt look – Dennis liked it, and we agreed to try it in the next rehearsal

All of these practical issues took time, and in the end there were only a few minutes left for Jeffrey to go through his notes from our last run through, and to go over some of the new blocking again. 

It is frustrating not to get full runs of the play in but the work we are doing is vital to the overall success of the show, and I am of course doing my own rehearsals each day back in my flat, with my re-arranged furniture.

We had to finish our work at 7.30 because Tricia arrived from the Guthrie to re-introduce me to my wig, which he constructed in 2015 specifically for this show. 

Two years ago Tricia had attended almost every performance to fit it and tweak it for me, but this year she is not available, so while she slowly turned me into Charles Dickens she was also demonstrating to Bob and Kasey (who works with Dennis on the PR for the production), who will take on wig duties.  They took copious notes and I tried to feel what was going on at the back of my head, so that I can be of some use to them.

Tricia did a great job on this hairpiece, for she captured Dickens’ wild, unruly, uncontrolled locks and it is not perfect or pretty.  It is the hair of a man who would take his cravat off to rehearse a play. 

When Trish finished I looked in the mirror and smiled: welcome back Charles John Huffam Dickens!

 

A Dark Day

With Jeffrey away, Wednesday was a day off for the cast and crew of To Begin With, although I am sure that everyone was still working hard on the project in their own ways.

A free day gave me the opportunity to do plenty of work on the script, and during the first part morning I went through scenes one to three with a fine-tooth comb.  This wasn’t line learning, this was line perfecting.  During my run through I had the script close at hand and whenever I was slightly in doubt I would check.

For example:  in scene one I say ‘Charitably, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps my neighbour’s spawn had been taking a brisk morning immersion.’  I made a note of that line because I wanted to check that the word was ‘perhaps’ and not ‘maybe’.  In this case I have been getting it right, but there were a few others where inaccuracies have crept in, often in the order of words:  ‘educated and intelligent’ should be ‘intelligent and educated’; ‘longing, frustration and bitterness’ should be ‘frustration, longing and bitterness’, and so on.  Essentially it makes no difference to the progress of the plot which way round I say these lines, but I want it to be perfect.  So it was two hours well spent.

To escape from my little apartment/rehearsal room, I decided to walk to the Minnesota Institute of Art, which is an amazing  gallery and museum.  The collection contains ancient items from before Christ, right up to a fabulous collection of modern art and photography.  There are urns, coffins, jade carvings, Native American headdresses and robes.  There are works by Manet and Monet; Picasso and Pissaro; Singer Sargent and….oh, I’ve rather backed myself into an alliterative cul-de-sac there!  Anyway, it is a fine collection.

As is often the way in modern galleries (and although MIA is housed in an old Palladian-style building, the interior is very modern), the interior can be just as astounding as the works it holds.  At one point I walked down a staircase, and looking back up saw a view of angles and shade which was a piece of art in its own right.

My delight at the various works of art was tempered though by the awful news coming from London. 

Terrorism has moved on since 9-11 and London’s co-ordinated bomb attack of 7-7 in 2005.  These days all that is needed is an individual and a vehicle.  We have seen such attacks in Niece, Dijon and Berlin and now in London.  If a single madman wants to create havoc and has a car at his disposal, there is nothing to stop him – no online chat, no planning, no terrorist cells, just a madman.

As the news came in to my phone, so the stories of bravery and heroism began to surface.  Of course the London police force, who lost one of the number, were professional and instant in their response.  The scene was cleared and Parliament was locked down immediately, presumably in accordance to a carefully planned emergency protocol, while the attacker was taken before he could cause more carnage.

Soon photographs began to appear on the web and we saw bloodied Member of Parliament Tobias Ellwood performing first aid on the fallen officer.

A woman was reported to be in the Thames, presumably having jumped from Westminster Bridge as the car ploughed through pedestrians, later it was confirmed that she had been pulled alive from the water.

A horrible, horrible day, and one that made me feel very alone here.

However, life goes on and I very much approved of Theresa May’s response, after denouncing the ‘sick and depraved’ attack, and praising the security and police forces, she went onto say:

‘But let me make it clear today, as I have had cause to do before: any attempt to defeat those values through violence and terror is doomed to failure.

‘Tomorrow morning, Parliament will meet as normal.  We will come together as normal.

‘And Londoners – and others from around the world who have come here to visit this great city – will get up and go about their day as normal.

‘They will board their trains, they will leave their hotels, they will walk these streets, they will live their lives.

‘And we will all move forward together.  Never giving in to terror.  And never allowing the voices of hate and evil to drive us apart.’

 

From the museum I walked back into the City and then home, where I spent a further two and half hours working my way through scene four: Essential work for me, and although it felt difficult and meaningless, it was vital to do for, as Mrs May said, if we don’t go on as normal they have won.

On Thursday we will begin the final push towards opening night: the furniture will arrive, the props will arrive, the costumes will arrive and I will have my wig fitted!

So, let me close with a quote from the show:

‘Faith and life.  Not so dark after all.  Though darkness must be part of the story, the darkness shall not overwhelm.  But if the dark is not truthfully dark, the light cannot be truthfully light.’

 

Postscript:

In the few minutes since I first published this post, the following picture appeared on Facebook, which sums it all up!

 

 

Welcoming Our New Cast Member

Prologue

We officially welcomed a new cast member into the performance yesterday.  She has been flirting with us all for the best part of a week, and making great efforts to become part of the show.  Last night Dennis, Jeffrey, Ben and I relented and let her have a role.

 

As our Tuesday rehearsal was not until 2pm, I had a fairly quiet morning in the apartment, and for the first time I decided to avail myself of the gymnasium facilities here (I had promised myself that I would anyway, but when Bob measured me for costumes and the numbers were rather larger than I’d expected, that made my mind up).  I didn’t have a long work out, and really just picked up a running programme that I had started at home and let lapse a few weeks ago.  I returned to the apartment red of face and moist of skin, but it is a good discipline and I shall make every effort to keep it up during my stay.  Actually, the weather is so good that I may well start running in nearby Loring Park.

After a healthy breakfast I started a run through of the entire show, using my previously re-arranged furniture as a temporary stage.  It seemed to go pretty well, but there are a few moments that are hesitant, so more work to do: always more work to do.

The rest of the morning was taken up with domestic chores, such as laundry and ironing, before having some soup for lunch.

Over at the Wesley Center the performing space had moved one step on, as Ben had been in all morning hanging large black drapes at the back of the stage to mask the altar, organ, piano, various speakers, a large TV screen and other equipment that would look out of place in an 1847 study.  As I walked around the stage I realised that the issue of physically getting onto the set to begin the show would be tricky.  I would have to part the black curtains, and that would break the integrity of the ‘room’.  At the Music Box theatre we had much more space and I could walk between masking flats at the back of the stage and onto the set itself, but here that is not possible.  I had a brief chat with Ben about it, and we decided that until a lot of the backstage equipment had been moved we couldn’t really make a decision.

Jeffrey arrived and after a discussion about the entering issue, we spent some time re-blocking a couple of scenes that are not working quite as well as they could:  Jesus’ dinner with Simon, the Pharisee, and the moment that Dickens sees his son Alfred staring at him, as he ‘performs’ the crucifixion and a couple of others.

We were on a tight timescale, as Jeffrey had to catch a plane to Arizona where he is working on another of his plays, so as soon as we could we began a complete run of our show

I made the best entry I could through the curtains and onto the set and off I went.  This was the first run with the sound cues that we worked on yesterday and on the whole it went well, although there were a few occasions that cues didn’t come in, or weren’t quite right, but it is amazing to feel the atmosphere of the piece growing and developing with each run.

As for me, it wasn’t a great performance:  Those hesitant lines become much bigger issues under the pressure of keeping the story flowing, and I am using much more of my mental capacity just to ‘get it right’ than I should be.  When the performance is complete I will be saying the lines without thinking, and 100% of my concentration will be on the emotion and atmosphere of the piece. The same is true of the movement on stage and all of the work we had done an hour earlier  went completely from my head!  So, more work to be done there, then.  Always more work to do.

When the play finished, we all sat down to chat, although we didn’t have long due to Jeffrey’s flight.  Jeffrey, Dennis and Ben were sat in the auditorium, whilst I sat on the steps at the front of the stage looking straight up the aisle to a rather grand wood and glass door at the back of the house.

Immediately Dennis chimed in with a note about the start of the show: he hated the clumsy first entrance through the black curtains onto the stage (exactly the issue that Ben and I had discussed earlier), and felt that it would be better if I took to the stage when the house lights went out, allowed the audience to accept that the show was about to begin, then bring the stage lights up and start the show with me already in the scene.  The problem with that solution is the lighting system in The Wesley Center does not allow for a complete black-out (all of that Tiffany glass), and it is difficult to turn all of the house lights out at the same time, as they are all operated from separate switches.

We passed this problem back and forth for a while, all trying to come up with the best solution.  In fact, that solution was right in front of my face the whole time: the impressive wooden door at the back of the house.  The long central aisle, or hallway.  The small flight of steps up into Dickens’ writing room.

‘Couldn’t I enter from the back?’  I said.  After all the character of Dickens is returning to the house after a tea party.  He is returning in high dudgeon and Dickens was known for his rapid walking pace.

‘How about, playing the opening music, and as the clock bell chimes six I walk into the room?

Everybody pondered this idea for a moment and then it began to take hold – this might just be our answer.  We decided to try it, and Ben cued the music up, while I went to the back of the hall.  As the bell started to ring I strode down the aisle (with a satisfyingly loud tread to alert the audience to the action) and found myself in perfect positon as the final chime subsided: we had found our answer.

As the week goes on we have been adapting our show to suit the new venue, and now the dear old lady that is the Wesley Center will provide not only a backdrop to the action, but become part of it.

We have officially embraced our surroundings.

 

 

To see the Wesley Center, watch out promotional video:

https://youtu.be/Plw3Od0AqdY

 

 

 

 

 

A Slow But Vital Day

After a very positive day’s rehearsing on Sunday, Monday proved to be rather more frustrating, although in the overall creation of our piece of theatre just as important.

The day was given over to our composer Michael, and stage manager to Ben so that we could work hard at the various sound cues through the play, which fall into two categories, the first of which is linking music.  Having watched a few rehearsals to get the tone of the play, Michael has been busy creating some short pieces to fill the breaks between each scene, and we start with the opening of the show.

The music that Michael has come up with slips seamlessly onto a seascape sound, then comes a simple piano melody, joined by cello and an oboe in the background, and one can easily picture the opening credits of a film: the camera is skimming across the sea, over a beach (probably at low tide to create some wonderful reflections and ripples on the wet sand), a grassy cliff sweeps below us and we are in a garden, but the camera still continues over a large fig tree and on towards the handsome house beyond.  In true Hitchockian style we fly through a window (perhaps white linen curtains billowing is a cliché too far), and into a study, where a clock is striking 6. A door is flung open and the unmistakable figure of Charles Dickens storms in.  ‘Disagreeable evening!  Lost and argument with Swinburne over the meaning of Christ and the existence of God.’

All of that from around 30 seconds of music and sound: It is going to be a wonderful opening to the show, and will really bring the audience into Winterbourne House, where Dickens genuinely stayed on the Isle of Wight.

From that major effect we just make our way through the play scene to scene, cue to cue:  do we want a tiny sound as Dickens first sees young Algernon Swinburne on the churchyard wall?  A note, perhaps, or two?  Try this?  No, let’s try something else.  Too loud, let’s make it softer.  Too short, let’s make it longer. 

 

Michael and Ben working the cues

 

Each stage had to be re-programmed into the computer, then tried out again, before being built into the master programme, which will eventually include lighting cues as well.

And all of this takes time.  Lots of time.  Jeffrey and I sat quietly, passing comment occasionally, and then I am called on to do a few lines. 

This went on throughout the day, and there is not a great deal more to say about it really!

As I sat in the auditorium, a few things caught my mind – I  looked up at the magnificent Tiffany glass dome in the roof and reflected that when I look down on the church from my  apartment, there is no dome, just a slate pitched roof.  Curious.

Seat numbers are being put in every pew by Bekah, the manager of the venue.  She is using individual self-adhesive numbers (so seat, say, 42 is two stickers).  We are selling 340 tickets to each show: that is 671 individual numbers, not to mention row letters as well: an awful lot of sticking!  If I thought my day was monotonous, I just need to cast a quick glance into the auditorium!

The one great excitement came after lunch, when Jeffrey produced a new half page of script, which hopefully will clean up the awkward break between scene three and four.  I got to rehearse the scene, with props, a few times and it seemed to work well.  The real test, though, will come during the next complete run-through.

Came 5 o’clock and our time was up.  We had jussssst about reached the end of the play, although there were a couple of effects that Michael was going to take away and work on overnight. 

From an actor’s point of view it was a day to display a great deal of patience, and just be there when required.  It was not a day to flounce and have temper tantrums because I was not the centre of attention.  A play such as To Begin With, although a one-man show, is a massive team effort and yesterday’s rehearsals were a vital part of the process.

From the rehearsal I went to shop, buying new trousers as well as food for my supper (a piece of salmon, some wild rice and asparagus), and then walked home.  The weather was everything that you would expect from the first day of spring – sunny and warm with a slight breeze, there was no need to wear a coat and all, which is in stark contrast to my visit here in 2015, when my beard froze as soon as I stepped outside, and thawed again as soon as I got into the warmth.

The amazing thing about the day’s rehearsal, on reflection, is how early in the process we were able to do it. Usually such grinding tech runs come just before the dress rehearsals and everybody gets very tense, nervous and moody.  We still have a week to go, and we are looking in good shape!

 

This is a short publicity video for the show – share the link far and wide!

 

 

 

 

Turning a Corner

Sunday was an important and interesting day for many different reasons, and although actual rehearsal time was severely limited I think that we turned a big corner with the show.

Firstly, the beard.  I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I felt needed to become more Dickens-like and so the first thing I did on getting up was to grab the scissors and razor and start chopping.  I have been cultivating the beard for a couple of months now, so that when the time came it could be quite wild and straggly, as Charles’ would have been during a Summer holiday to the Isle of Wight.

 

Before…..

 

 

The end result was pleasing, even if my cheeks were feeling a bit chilly.

 

…..and after.

 

Being Sunday I wanted to continue a tradition from two years ago, when Liz and I (and latterly my brother Ian and I) went for Sunday breakfast at a wonderful chrome and vinyl diner nearby.  On leaving the apartment I took a brief detour up two floors to 35.  There has been a notice in the lift about Zumba and Yoga classes held up there.  I wasn’t particularly keen to join in the classes but I was interested to see the space, and I found a wonderful open-plan lounge, presumably used for functions (as well as Yoga and Zumba).  To me it screamed out ‘REHEARSAL SPACE’ and as I wanted to run through the entire show later in the morning, I was delighted to have found it. 

There was a door out to a roof-top terrace which gave me a beautiful early morning view of Minneapolis.

And now, breakfast:  I walked with a Dickensian spring in my step past the Wesley Center and onto Nicolett Avenue, where I stopped for a moment outside The Music Box Theater where we played in 2015.

The Nicolett Diner was quiet and I was warmly welcomed and shown to a booth, where I had a wonderful all-American breakfast. This really is a once-a-week thing, otherwise I will never fit into any of my costumes.

 

Breakfast (note the script on the table – always working!)

 

I returned to the apartment ready to rehearse, but to my dismay discovered that my rehearsal room had been locked up.  There was nothing for it but to return to my apartment and move the furniture around, to make an approximation of the set: the sofa became the window box, the coffee table the pouffe, two chairs represented the chaise longue and an arm chair took the role of, well, an armchair.

It was a very useful exercise, and I was able to go over and over some lines that caught me out yesterday, as well as fixing the new blocking into my mind.  There are three very similar lines during the show over which I always get mixed up: ‘was Swinburne looking for truth and guidance?’, ‘What if it’s lessons of redemption and grace were delivered by a black-clad martinet….’ And ‘it will reveal grace and hope and announce redemption.’  All of those truths, graces, hopes and redemptions have been getting very muddled and in the pressure of performing each of the scenes I have just been coming out with whichever combination happened to spring into my mind on the spur of the moment.  I spent a lot of time on those.

My unofficial run-through went very well and I was confident that I had overcome some of the frailties of yesterday.  At 1 I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup and was ready to rehearse for real at 2. 

In the Wesley Center the congregation from the service was slowly leaving as we rapidly moved in.  For the first time we were using the large window frames that shape the back of the set, and this would be extremely useful as it would mean I had an idea as to the space I will have to work with over the next few weeks.

We were slightly pushed for time as another congregation was coming in at 4, so as soon as everything was assembled Jeffrey said ‘Go’ and I went.

The run today was so much better than yesterday’s and I really began to feel at home in my new surroundings.  My morning’s efforts had paid off and the performance was much more accurate and slick.  Both Dennis and Jeffrey move around the auditorium during the run, testing sight-lines and volume.

On cutting the show Dennis had asked for a run-time of 90 minutes, and I stopped the clock at 89, so everybody was pleased about that.  There were still issues that will need fixing, such as the long transition between scenes 3 and 4, which is not right yet.  This is where the original interval fell, and matters are complicated by needing a costume change, as well distributing various props around the stage: this is maybe where a degree of re-writing is needed.

As time was marching on and as had to leave the sanctuary to the new congregation we all decamped upstairs to Dennis’s office for notes and a debrief. 

Jeffrey ran through his comments, which tended to be very small tweaks here and there ‘lose the comma in that sentence’, ’ move a titch earlier downstage’ and ‘we need to work out where to put the cane’.  Dennis chimed in with a few notes also, mainly about the text, but the greatest news is that there was no problem with volume and clarity in the domed room, so the tech team will not need to mic me, which brought a sigh of relief from around the table.

The largest part of the discussion was the sound effect issue and exactly how and where to use them.  Dennis has a very firm idea as to what he wants, but hasn’t yet heard it.  Jeffrey stood up for his role as a playwright saying that if a scene needed something artificial in it, then he hadn’t done a good enough job with the words!

There was a slight stand-off and it was agreed that the next rehearsal would concentrate on this issue.  Our composer Michael was sat taking this all in, and I am sure he will come up with a soundscape that suits everyone and that will enhance, rather than detract, the show.

Our meeting over I had just enough time to return to apartment and heat up the remains of my Bolognese sauce, before it was time to meet Jeffrey again, as he had very kindly invited me to the theatre.

The largest theatre in Minneapolis is The Guthrie, and they are currently performing King Lear.  We drove out towards St Anthony’s Falls, which was the starting point of the entire city as clever engineers realised that they could harness the water power to drive mills and factories.

The current Guthrie is a relatively new building and is immensely impressive.  From a cavernous lobby space long escalators take the audience up to a bar, and from there into circular corridors to the auditorium itself where a huge stage thrusts deep into the audience.

The show was impressive, although my continual 2.30 mornings meant that a few blinks lasted for rather longer than they should.  The storm was wonderfully staged, with music and sound (can we learn something from this?), as was the gouging of Gloucester’s eyes with Regan joining in the fun, using her stiletto heel for extra leverage.

When the show was done Jeffrey asked if we could just say hello to a few people, and we headed to the bar.  The arts scene in Minneapolis is very close and everyone knows everyone.  There were lots of congratulations and hugs and catchings up and anecdotes.  Drinks were bought and general conviviality descended.

As the evening went on I found myself sat at a table with our lighting designer Michael and his wife as well as with James Williams who played Gloucester (fortunately not occularly-challenged any longer), and Stephen Yoakam – Lear himself, who seemed to have recovered his sanity.

It was getting late when suddenly the conversation veered towards 1960s sports cars: Stephen owns a Mustang, as does Jeffrey (’66 and ’67 respectively).  Michael loves his cars and I used to own a 1973 Lotus Elan.  Stephen’s eyes lit up at my mention of  Lotus, as he used to live in Indianapolis and watched Jimmy Clark and Graham hill race there in the 60s. 

An hour earlier I had been watching this man becoming increasingly mad, and moaning like a wounded animal as he carried the corpse of Cordelia to the stage; and now here we were chatting about engine sizes, manual transmissions and the sea change from front-engine to rear-engine race cars.  Very odd but great great fun.

Close on to midnight we said our goodbyes and Jeffrey took me back to my apartment block, where I thanked him for treating me to a wonderful evening. 

As I turned all of the lights out and got ready for bed one thought occurred to me:  ‘if I wake up at 2.30, I will NOT be happy!’