When is an opening not an opening?

Days 20, 21, and 22: Tuesday, March 7, Wednesday, March 8, and Thursday, March 9

As was expected, promised, and anticipated, we were finally going to get into our theatre on Tuesday. The original plan was for long, long days (something like 11:00 am to 10:30 pm or later), but—since no tech rehearsal in the history of the theatre has ever gone to schedule—we were delayed until 2:00. Even once we did get in, there wasn’t a lot we could do, since the set pieces weren’t there yet. (They’d been shipped; they just had to be picked up).

We walked around, got familiar with the layout of the building and our dressing room. We’d been led to believe we’d be sharing it with the two-person cast of the show next door, but they had their own facilities one flight down. There wasn’t a lot else to do, since there was still painting and light-focusing on the set to be done, so we kind of marked through things and waited until everything arrived.
 

The view of our theatre from across the street.

We're in Theatre C

When the stuff (which is mostly comprised of cubes) did arrive, some of it was in good shape, some of it was in need of drastic repair, and some of it just didn’t fit in the new configuration. We worked through some stuff, then prepared for a run-through in the evening. One thing we did discover in the dressing room (too late, unfortunately) was that our normal conversation levels bled right through the wall to the other theatre, so they could apparently hear us during their show. We apologized profusely, but it soon became a moot point since, under normal circumstances, there’d be only 15 minutes between their show going up and ours. (They were due to close after our first Sunday performance.)

The run went well enough, but Leah got the idea that one of the scenes was a little bland and that it could be improved by emulating some of the actual, highly-controlled blocking in one of Beckett’s own plays. Frankly, neither Brendan nor I were really crazy about the idea, but we gave it a go and made it work as best as we could. The problem (on our end) was that some of the moves seemed counter-intuitive to both what we’d been doing and what seemed psychologically right for the characters (moving away from each other when we were trying to connect; that kind of thing … ). Anyway, we both grumbled, but did what we could. Leah seemed delighted, and we ended up calling it a night.

 Our theatre -- almost actual size

The most important part of the day for me was that Pidge was coming in from California, so after an exchange of text messages (“Which side of the bed is mine?” “Did you find the towels?” “Where’s someplace I can eat?”) I was finally able to see her after three weeks. In some ways, it seemed like five minutes; in others, it seemed like an eternity (as has this whole process; as I write this, I can’t believe it’s only three weeks since we started rehearsals). When I did get home, I heard voices from upstairs, so I assumed she was talking to Daniel, but it turned out he was talking to a friend on the phone downstairs and she was already in bed upstairs.

Wednesday called for more of the same. Since there were still tech issues to be resolved, we were called even later: 3:00, which was nice in that I got a chance to sleep in a little and see Pidge (she was going for breakfast out and then a matinee). One nice thing was that virtually the entire staff of the 59E59 theatre came into the theatre and introduced themselves, just because they’re nice people. (They’ve been truly great.)

We were due to show Gino the new blocking (after we’d run it again), and—long story short—he didn’t like it, so out it went as we tried to reconstruct the staging we’d set in the bar. Beth had written some of it down (I hadn’t; though I had the old “San Francisco” blocking in my script), and between the four of us, we reassembled something that was pretty good (as long as I remembered to do something—that is, cross—on my line, “I don’t know what I’m doing”). We did something of a work-through, with the intention of starting a full tech run—our last shot, for all intents and purposes—at 9:30. The show runs only about 80 minutes, so we’d still get out at a reasonable hour. For her part, Pidge was going to get up and attend a meditation session early Thursday morning, so she’d probably be asleep by the time I got home. (She was; kind of …).

The run went well; there’s always something with this show. I think I’ve nailed down one part and another one slips away. We finished about 11:00 or so and were released until Thursday, which would be our preview. Or what we considered our preview. "Officially" (meaning as far as 59E59 is concerned), we don't open until Wednesday the 15th (that's either our "press night" or the night the press embargo is lifted [I have no idea if we've had any reviewers yet]). As far as we and Custom Made is concerned, our opening night was Friday the 10th. (All of this mainly means that we're neither rehearsing nor getting real notes anymore.)

We were called at noon for another, final run-through before the preview. It went well enough, even if some of the scene changes confused me. Because of the nature of the show, I have to do pretty much all the changes in the show. There aren’t that many—it’s just moving cubes around—but there’s little that an audience enjoys less than watching an actor moving stuff around while haunting piano music plays. The first change isn’t bad, but the second one takes about two minutes, and imagine watching me confused for that time and you’ll have an idea of what it’s like.

We took a break before the preview and I was pretty baffled as to what to do. I don’t like to eat before a show; it tends to make me logy. I can’t drink before or during this one, since I’m on stage for 80 minutes straight (with about 30 seconds excepted). I was kind of hungry, though, so I went downstairs to the market, thinking I could pick up some small snacks. I chose a bag of chocolate bark, a bottle of iced tea, and an orange. Under most circumstance, that should have been about $7; it was nearly $12 at this place, so it was the last time I was going there. (The drugstore across the street, though still too expensive, is far more reasonable.)

When I came back, I saw a huge box on the front desk and the woman at the desk (who’d, of course, already introduced herself) told me she had a package for me. I looked at it, kind of stunned. I got it up to the dressing room and managed to get through the tape (the basket company does its job well) and discovered a really lovely gift basket full of snacks and really good champagne. I read the card, honestly having no idea who it was from, and discovered my sister and brother-in-law had sent it. I was stunned. I might have expected a card or something, but not that elaborate. I still haven’t cracked the champagne. I was planning on doing it opening night, but we had a reception. I then thought of Sunday, after the matinee, but I was reminded I had dinner plans. I’m hoping to get to it next Sunday, when I have nothing scheduled and we can all really dig in.

Basket #1

Brendan and I ran some stuff while we were in the dressing room, basically to stay connected with each other and on top of the material, but there’s only so much else to do. We both looked at our phones, went over the script, and just kind of waited. Finally, after all the waiting, it was 7:15, and the show next door got its places call, which meant that we had to shut up in our dressing room. I think our behavior tends to reflect that of our characters, as Brendan tends to pace around and I kinda stand there with my forehead against the wall.

We finally got the places call, and we bumped fists and headed down the hall to the theatre. I went in the stage left door, Brendan went in the other, and I was left to stand in the dark waiting to make my New York debut. As I stood there, I was thinking two things: I thanked my parents and I asked the powers that be to not let me screw up the scene changes.
The preview actually went very well. A pretty full house, lots of laughs (in the right places), and an overall-good reception, even when we got to the end of the show and we all realized we’d never blocked the curtain call. There were moments that went haywire, of course, but it was stuff that only we’d notice. It’s all ultimately warnings, though; stuff to watch out for and work on in the next performance. The trick about this show—at least for me—is to trust the words and not act. Just let it happen. As much as I’ve wanted to work on the smallness and simplicity of it, it’s very easy for me to start to get big and act (this is especially true in the final scene, where we both really need to just be in our heads and trust that what we say is getting across). That’s the thing I’m going to have to watch out for and work on during the run; not getting in my own way. I know the words, I know the character, I know what to do. When I’m doing it right, the response is what we want and the laughs come easily. When we push it, it still works (the script is too good not to); just not as well.

After the show, we went back to the dressing room to change, then back to the theatre for some brief notes (nothing we didn’t know), got our call for Friday (we were going to work the scene changes and the final scene), then we were released. I got a text message that a friend of mine had come (it was the friend with whom I’d had lunch a couple of weeks ago; the one who’d decided to go back to school and get her MFA at the Actors’ Studio). I was touched and moved that she’d come. We talked a bit, I went back to the dressing room to collect my backpack, and it turned out we were, more or less, going home the same way (she takes the same trains, only two more stops on the final one), so we took the train together and talked about life, careers, and the show.

I was hungry on the way home, so I decided to stop and get a couple of slices of pizza from the place across the street. There are better places on the way from the train, but I felt a sense of neighborhood loyalty. It was mediocre at best, but didn't kill me. I topped it off with some Irish whiskey, debriefed with Pidge, and slept in preparation for what was either our opening or another preview.