From Eric Hale:
Carmen closed two days ago. I’m both somewhat blue and somewhat frantic.
Blue because the show is over. There’s something about being so focused on a goal. It makes me feel so alive – especially when I’m working with such a wonderful group of people. I miss them.
Frantic because all the parts of my life which I put on hold are screaming for attention. There are bills to pay, things to put away, preparations for my wife’s next business trip, and even more important things: I had a poignant moment on Monday when my son said “Can we talk? I haven’t seen you much this week.” You don’t hear that often from a 13 year old.
So, to quote a song written a century after the one in the title: “Back to life, back to reality”. Carmen was a success, but there's no time to dwell on that. Capital Opera is already preparing for “Amahl and the Night Visitors”. It opens in less than 2 months.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
All good things
From Eric Hale:
Today was our last performance. After all the weeks and all the work, it doesn’t seem real.
Once again, we were called to the theater about 2 hours before the show. People were a little slower to arrive this time. The general atmosphere in the dressing room area seems more relaxed and cheerier that on Friday. Maybe it was the good review. Maybe it was getting some rest. Don’t know, but I was sure in a great mood.
I have to say again, we were very lucky to have had the N&O review come out on Saturday, and even more lucky to have had it appear in the paper Sunday morning. That is a very rare thing when the run is as short as ours.
The preshow preparations were much like those I described for opening night, with putting on makeup, getting in costume, double checking parts of the score, hallway chatter and warm-ups.
Then it was show time, and it felt great. The crowd was large and enthusiastic – not at all the stereotypical sleepy matinee audience. Things felt tighter even than on opening night. It was a great way to finish, and it was over all too soon.
After the show, people cleared out pretty quickly. Many headed to the cast party at the house of Rollin and Jan Glaser. They generously provided the cast and crew with food and champagne. We partied for several hours, then we went our separate ways. I headed home, tired and happy, but also a bit blue. It’s all over so quickly. I shall miss this show a lot.
Today was our last performance. After all the weeks and all the work, it doesn’t seem real.
Once again, we were called to the theater about 2 hours before the show. People were a little slower to arrive this time. The general atmosphere in the dressing room area seems more relaxed and cheerier that on Friday. Maybe it was the good review. Maybe it was getting some rest. Don’t know, but I was sure in a great mood.
I have to say again, we were very lucky to have had the N&O review come out on Saturday, and even more lucky to have had it appear in the paper Sunday morning. That is a very rare thing when the run is as short as ours.
The preshow preparations were much like those I described for opening night, with putting on makeup, getting in costume, double checking parts of the score, hallway chatter and warm-ups.
Then it was show time, and it felt great. The crowd was large and enthusiastic – not at all the stereotypical sleepy matinee audience. Things felt tighter even than on opening night. It was a great way to finish, and it was over all too soon.
After the show, people cleared out pretty quickly. Many headed to the cast party at the house of Rollin and Jan Glaser. They generously provided the cast and crew with food and champagne. We partied for several hours, then we went our separate ways. I headed home, tired and happy, but also a bit blue. It’s all over so quickly. I shall miss this show a lot.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Our first review
This makes me happy:
Capital Opera succeeds with 'Carmen'
Thanks to Roy Dicks and The News and Observer for getting this review out so fast.
Eric
Capital Opera succeeds with 'Carmen'
Thanks to Roy Dicks and The News and Observer for getting this review out so fast.
Eric
Opening night
From Eric Hale:
Last night, Carmen opened. While I do not know how many tickets we sold, it looked like a lot of the seats were full. That is a very happy thing.
Although the show did not start until 7:30, preparations began much earlier for the cast and crew. Everyone has a “call time”, which is the time you are supposed to be at the theater. Different groups have different call times. For the chorus, it was 5:30. However, many of us arrived even earlier than that, too excited by opening night to stay home.
Anna, the makeup artist, had watched final dress rehearsal and concluded that our makeup needed to be darker. This became the running joke of the night, as people were sent back to make their makeup darker a second, third, or even fourth time.
Despite making up several times, most people were ready nearly an hour before show time. We studied our scores and chatted with other cast members. People wandered by, saying “toi, toi, toi” as they passed. “Toi, toi, toi” is the operatic equivalent of “break a leg”.
Warm-ups for the chorus started about 20 minutes before show time. After warm-ups, we went upstairs to take our places for the start of the show. The curtain does not stop the murmur of the crowd. I can’t speak for the others, but that sound always gives me a kick of adrenaline. Joel Adams, one of the founders of Capital Opera, gave a brief statement and the overture started.
About the show itself, I can only give you my impressions. Each performer’s experience is different, and I would not presume to speak for them.
As the curtain went up, I realized that we had a great crowd! The theater seemed packed. That felt really good. However, I left that thought go almost immediately. Angela entered, tried to sell me an orange, and then the men were singing.
After that, I was in the show. Time telescopes and every scene seems to take a very long time. Yet, as soon as I go off stage, it’s like no time has passed. Even off stage, time seems distorted. While on stage, my perceptions seem heightened – colors seem sharper, sounds clearer. That stops at the edge of the orchestra pit though, partly because of lighting and partly because my attention needs to be on the stage.
At the end of the night, I was very tired, very happy. The old saying is true: You don’t have any problems at the theater.
Afterward, a bunch of us went out. Some of my friends also came. We took over a big section of the Village Draft House. Unfortunately, the group was too big to all sit together. However, we circulated, talking to folks and having a good time.
My friends who saw the show really loved it, which was great to hear. They are far too honest a bunch to pretend.
Today we rest. Tomorrow is our final show. I can’t believe it.
Last night, Carmen opened. While I do not know how many tickets we sold, it looked like a lot of the seats were full. That is a very happy thing.
Although the show did not start until 7:30, preparations began much earlier for the cast and crew. Everyone has a “call time”, which is the time you are supposed to be at the theater. Different groups have different call times. For the chorus, it was 5:30. However, many of us arrived even earlier than that, too excited by opening night to stay home.
Anna, the makeup artist, had watched final dress rehearsal and concluded that our makeup needed to be darker. This became the running joke of the night, as people were sent back to make their makeup darker a second, third, or even fourth time.
Despite making up several times, most people were ready nearly an hour before show time. We studied our scores and chatted with other cast members. People wandered by, saying “toi, toi, toi” as they passed. “Toi, toi, toi” is the operatic equivalent of “break a leg”.
Warm-ups for the chorus started about 20 minutes before show time. After warm-ups, we went upstairs to take our places for the start of the show. The curtain does not stop the murmur of the crowd. I can’t speak for the others, but that sound always gives me a kick of adrenaline. Joel Adams, one of the founders of Capital Opera, gave a brief statement and the overture started.
About the show itself, I can only give you my impressions. Each performer’s experience is different, and I would not presume to speak for them.
As the curtain went up, I realized that we had a great crowd! The theater seemed packed. That felt really good. However, I left that thought go almost immediately. Angela entered, tried to sell me an orange, and then the men were singing.
After that, I was in the show. Time telescopes and every scene seems to take a very long time. Yet, as soon as I go off stage, it’s like no time has passed. Even off stage, time seems distorted. While on stage, my perceptions seem heightened – colors seem sharper, sounds clearer. That stops at the edge of the orchestra pit though, partly because of lighting and partly because my attention needs to be on the stage.
At the end of the night, I was very tired, very happy. The old saying is true: You don’t have any problems at the theater.
Afterward, a bunch of us went out. Some of my friends also came. We took over a big section of the Village Draft House. Unfortunately, the group was too big to all sit together. However, we circulated, talking to folks and having a good time.
My friends who saw the show really loved it, which was great to hear. They are far too honest a bunch to pretend.
Today we rest. Tomorrow is our final show. I can’t believe it.
Friday, October 17, 2008
A hint of magic
From Eric Hale:
Tonight was our final dress rehearsal. For the first time, all the technical pieces came together: sets, props, makeup, costumes, lights, orchestra. For the first time, we saw what the show is really going to look like.
This is a good time to talk about costumes and makeup. I’m not going to try and describe Ruth’s costumes, you really need to see them. However, it is now our job to protect them. The rules are pretty much common sense: Put your costume on after you put on your makeup. Don’t eat in costume, or at least wear a cover if you do. No drinking anything but water in costume - ever. A bathrobe will stop cookie crumbs, but coffee will go right through.
As for performing in the costumes: I can’t comment on costume issues for the women, but for most of the men in this show, the costumes are close enough to modern clothes not to present any problems. (This is not always the case. In Madama Butterfly, I had to worry about my satin kimono coming open at inopportune times.)
For this show, we need to look somewhat Spanish. For many of us, that means trying not to look “pasty” as Anna, the makeup artist, puts it. I’m used to how I look in my usual stage makeup, but I need to go darker. Wearing darker makeup means all the shadows and highlights have to be bolder. Before putting on the powder, which lightens and mutes the effect, you can feel pretty ridiculous looking in the mirror. However, the look really needs to be that extreme to compensate for the distance and the bright lights.
And yes, a dressing room full of men putting on makeup is every bit as self-conscious as you would think.
I know some of you noticed the qualifier “technical” above. All the pieces of the show weren’t there yet, but for good reasons. Two missing pieces deserve special mention:
First, some of the principals were marking. The chorus generally does not mark, because the demands on us are less. For those not familiar with the term, to mark is to use various means to save your voice. You might, for example, sing a high passage an octave lower or sing loud passages at a moderate or soft volume.
This is not laziness. In an ideal world, we would get a day off before the opera, just as a sports team takes it easy the day before a big game. However, the world is not ideal, and they are being asked to sing major roles four days in a row. Opera is hard to sing, and their first priority is to save their voices for the show. You will get to hear them at their best.
Second, there was no real audience, and there is no substitute for the energy an audience brings to the show. In live theater, the audience is part of the show, whether you think of yourselves that way or not. Every audience is unique, and that’s part of what makes every show unique. No matter how enthusiastic the cast, a show without an audience is only half alive.
For all of that qualification, wonderful things were happening tonight. The curtain came up, the light flooded in and we got a hint of the magic to come. Friday night, many of you will be part of that magic. Come make a show with us.
Tonight was our final dress rehearsal. For the first time, all the technical pieces came together: sets, props, makeup, costumes, lights, orchestra. For the first time, we saw what the show is really going to look like.
This is a good time to talk about costumes and makeup. I’m not going to try and describe Ruth’s costumes, you really need to see them. However, it is now our job to protect them. The rules are pretty much common sense: Put your costume on after you put on your makeup. Don’t eat in costume, or at least wear a cover if you do. No drinking anything but water in costume - ever. A bathrobe will stop cookie crumbs, but coffee will go right through.
As for performing in the costumes: I can’t comment on costume issues for the women, but for most of the men in this show, the costumes are close enough to modern clothes not to present any problems. (This is not always the case. In Madama Butterfly, I had to worry about my satin kimono coming open at inopportune times.)
For this show, we need to look somewhat Spanish. For many of us, that means trying not to look “pasty” as Anna, the makeup artist, puts it. I’m used to how I look in my usual stage makeup, but I need to go darker. Wearing darker makeup means all the shadows and highlights have to be bolder. Before putting on the powder, which lightens and mutes the effect, you can feel pretty ridiculous looking in the mirror. However, the look really needs to be that extreme to compensate for the distance and the bright lights.
And yes, a dressing room full of men putting on makeup is every bit as self-conscious as you would think.
I know some of you noticed the qualifier “technical” above. All the pieces of the show weren’t there yet, but for good reasons. Two missing pieces deserve special mention:
First, some of the principals were marking. The chorus generally does not mark, because the demands on us are less. For those not familiar with the term, to mark is to use various means to save your voice. You might, for example, sing a high passage an octave lower or sing loud passages at a moderate or soft volume.
This is not laziness. In an ideal world, we would get a day off before the opera, just as a sports team takes it easy the day before a big game. However, the world is not ideal, and they are being asked to sing major roles four days in a row. Opera is hard to sing, and their first priority is to save their voices for the show. You will get to hear them at their best.
Second, there was no real audience, and there is no substitute for the energy an audience brings to the show. In live theater, the audience is part of the show, whether you think of yourselves that way or not. Every audience is unique, and that’s part of what makes every show unique. No matter how enthusiastic the cast, a show without an audience is only half alive.
For all of that qualification, wonderful things were happening tonight. The curtain came up, the light flooded in and we got a hint of the magic to come. Friday night, many of you will be part of that magic. Come make a show with us.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Parallel Universes
From Eric Hale:
Aside from a brief makeup tutorial before rehearsal, the rehearsal was all about the orchestra. I may talk about makeup another time, but today’s post is about the orchestra as well.
The orchestra are all professional musicians and do not show up until a couple of days before the show. I never cease to be amazed at their ability to learn the music and play as a group in only a couple of days. That’s a level of skill I cannot imagine.
The cast and orchestra almost dwell in parallel universes. I got a taste of just how different the orchestra experience is during Capital Opera’s performance of Madama Butterfly. We sang the Humming Chorus from the orchestra pit. While I had been in an orchestra pit before, I had never been in one when the musicians were in place and certainly not during a show.
The first shock was discovering how little the musicians can hear the singers. Not only are the singers directing their sound up and out, but there is a thick, sound dampening floor between them and the orchestra. And, of course, there is a lot of sound in the pit itself. This drove home something I had heard conductors say, but never really thought about: The conductor is the link. He’s the only one who hears everything. It’s important to watch him not only because he picks the tempo, not only because we want a consistent interpretation of the music, but literally he’s the only one who knows what’s really going on.
The second shock was how cramped it is in there. As actors, we’re concerned with filling the stage, and the stage can seem vast when there are only a few of are up there. The inside of the pit was like the inside of a mechanical watch. I remember particularly the string players, each so precisely positioned so that they could bow without elbowing someone in the face. For some reason, it’s easy to forget how confined they are when you only see the musicians from above.
Last night’s rehearsal was the orchestra’s first time working as a group and our first time to hear what the music will sound like on opening night. We had monitors on stage, which made it much easier to hear. However, as I said earlier, this rehearsal really wasn’t about us. Wayne’s focus was on the orchestra. We started and stopped a number of times as they worked out the tempo changes, entrances, etc. They were covering a lot of material very rapidly, and seeming to get almost always it after hearing it once. Amazing.
The orchestra rehearsal ended promptly at 10:00. Wayne is very good about not having rehearsals run long, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rehearsal with orchestra run long. Not anywhere, not ever. The cast worked on one entrance after the orchestra left, set the final bow and went home.
Final dress rehearsal is tonight: one last time to get everything right.
Aside from a brief makeup tutorial before rehearsal, the rehearsal was all about the orchestra. I may talk about makeup another time, but today’s post is about the orchestra as well.
The orchestra are all professional musicians and do not show up until a couple of days before the show. I never cease to be amazed at their ability to learn the music and play as a group in only a couple of days. That’s a level of skill I cannot imagine.
The cast and orchestra almost dwell in parallel universes. I got a taste of just how different the orchestra experience is during Capital Opera’s performance of Madama Butterfly. We sang the Humming Chorus from the orchestra pit. While I had been in an orchestra pit before, I had never been in one when the musicians were in place and certainly not during a show.
The first shock was discovering how little the musicians can hear the singers. Not only are the singers directing their sound up and out, but there is a thick, sound dampening floor between them and the orchestra. And, of course, there is a lot of sound in the pit itself. This drove home something I had heard conductors say, but never really thought about: The conductor is the link. He’s the only one who hears everything. It’s important to watch him not only because he picks the tempo, not only because we want a consistent interpretation of the music, but literally he’s the only one who knows what’s really going on.
The second shock was how cramped it is in there. As actors, we’re concerned with filling the stage, and the stage can seem vast when there are only a few of are up there. The inside of the pit was like the inside of a mechanical watch. I remember particularly the string players, each so precisely positioned so that they could bow without elbowing someone in the face. For some reason, it’s easy to forget how confined they are when you only see the musicians from above.
Last night’s rehearsal was the orchestra’s first time working as a group and our first time to hear what the music will sound like on opening night. We had monitors on stage, which made it much easier to hear. However, as I said earlier, this rehearsal really wasn’t about us. Wayne’s focus was on the orchestra. We started and stopped a number of times as they worked out the tempo changes, entrances, etc. They were covering a lot of material very rapidly, and seeming to get almost always it after hearing it once. Amazing.
The orchestra rehearsal ended promptly at 10:00. Wayne is very good about not having rehearsals run long, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rehearsal with orchestra run long. Not anywhere, not ever. The cast worked on one entrance after the orchestra left, set the final bow and went home.
Final dress rehearsal is tonight: one last time to get everything right.
Stay in Character
by shiangtai, a member in the chorus
As Eric has pointed out in some of the earlier postings, it is important to stay in your character in a show. The principals all have their specific roles to fill. However, as Eric pointed out, there is the difficulty for a chorus member to assume a character. Who am I?
In a grogram of a Gilbert-Sullivan shows I was in, you might see, among the bois, while other people showed off their various stage experiences, mine was something like this: "He was Shanghaied by the Pirates of Penzance at age of 16, sold to the land of Mikado, rescued by the sailors of H M S Pinafore, and was left in Italy. That is why he is one of the Gondoliers now."
It is much harder in this show. Not having done as much research on 1830's Spanish history, I have no way to know the Asian population in Seville at that time. (I did try Google "Chinese Population Spain 1830" but it got me nowhere. Google is not as powerful as I thought!) Did Marco Polo (1254 – 1324) bring back some Chinese servants or soldiers to Europe? Is there any trace that they left any descendants in Spain? Possibly, you might say. The path Marco polo traveled is now called the “Silk Road”. Though I went on a tour to the "Silk Road" region in China, I still do not know much about the majority part of the "Silk Road" which extends across Middle East all the way from Beijing to Rome. I think the trade was done in sections back then. The European merchants went as far as Near East (a later term). The Middle Eastern tradesmen went to China. And the Chinese? Being in the richest and most civilized country (back then), they were not interested in trading. They simply sat home and used silk and Chinaware as everyday commodities. It was the "foreign" merchants who came and bought silk or Chinaware. As far as I know, direct Chinese influence and immigration only extended to South East Asia. For a stage set for Spain, I would have to pretend to be a Chinese ambassador or a Chinese astrologer (as I did in some of the Renaissance Faires in Raleigh) if it were a show about the elite, but not this show about "common people". You see, it is hard enough to find one character to fit the show already and I need four. Why four?
This is a story about Carmen and Jose's entangled love live and four stages of their adventures, starting the moment Carmen threw him a flower at the door of the factory, continuing as they were in a Gypsy tavern, joining the revolution, ending at the final scene out side the arena. On stage, we are the back ground by which to mark those places.
In the first act, other than the soldiers, the chorus men are lazy bums to come "meet" with the poor but flirty cigarette factory girls. In second act, we are groupies of Escamillo, the bullfighter, running around party hopping, you know, the Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and their rich friends type. In the third act, Carmen and Jose encountered and joined the smuggler/revolutionaries, something like the Symbionese Liberation Army. Hey, citizen of the universe with our free will as the law! Who does not like that? In the fourth act, we are the family type. We go, with wives and children, to the most popular entertainment of the time; go see the well dressed Picadors stick colorful lances to the side of the bull to draw blood; and go see the much admired and worshiped Escamillo to kill the bull with one thrust of his fine sword (from the libretto).
Now, for my characters: (The following history is made-up) Say, after the Inquisition, it is no longer dangerous in Spain and people started to go there. Let my character in Act I be some one who just came to Spain either from China or from a neighboring country, you know, the first generation migrant type. He is, say, either a Chinese medicine man or an astrologer. He made a lot of money by working hard giving false or superstitious advices to people though he honestly believed in those talks himself. Things never change, do they? Only that they are in California now. Every afternoon he would leave behind his work, wife, and children to go find some entertainment at the town square. Didn't I say things never change? In act two, let my character be none other but this above-mentioned, first generation migrant's son, a second generation migrant. We know them [sic] type too. He wants to get away as far as possible from his parents' old culture. He despises his father's entertainment at the town square but not his father's money. So, he goes to the most popular Gypsy tavern in town, mixing with the Paris Hiltons and Britney Spearses of the time. As for the third act, we can use the theory that my character is one of the descendants of merchants from Marco Polo's period. It was hard to survive the Inquisition (about the time of and extended until long after Marco Polo). Anything you did that your priest did not like was called blasphemy and your head could be chopped off. A Chinese, even after converted into Christianity, might still keep some portraits of their ancestors. That would be enough to win a death penalty. As a result, many of them, along with Jews and other foreigners, were either killed, moved away, or became fugitive. My character is one of these "undocumented". He runs around with a bunch of smuggler and thieves who call themselves freedom fighters, living under the sky, endures a lot of hardship but makes good drug money, perhaps. Now, for the fourth act. Well, the Inquisition was long time ago, even for the 1830s (almost 500 year has past). Some of the Chinese survived alright and some others came out of hiding. They were, after all, good people. My character in the fourth act is one of their descendants. He is a good man, works hard, goes to church, i.e., goes to masses, married a local, and was accepted well in the local society. Like others in his adopted society, he has even picked up the habit of going to the football games, I mean, the bullfights. Prends Garde a toi!
As Eric has pointed out in some of the earlier postings, it is important to stay in your character in a show. The principals all have their specific roles to fill. However, as Eric pointed out, there is the difficulty for a chorus member to assume a character. Who am I?
In a grogram of a Gilbert-Sullivan shows I was in, you might see, among the bois, while other people showed off their various stage experiences, mine was something like this: "He was Shanghaied by the Pirates of Penzance at age of 16, sold to the land of Mikado, rescued by the sailors of H M S Pinafore, and was left in Italy. That is why he is one of the Gondoliers now."
It is much harder in this show. Not having done as much research on 1830's Spanish history, I have no way to know the Asian population in Seville at that time. (I did try Google "Chinese Population Spain 1830" but it got me nowhere. Google is not as powerful as I thought!) Did Marco Polo (1254 – 1324) bring back some Chinese servants or soldiers to Europe? Is there any trace that they left any descendants in Spain? Possibly, you might say. The path Marco polo traveled is now called the “Silk Road”. Though I went on a tour to the "Silk Road" region in China, I still do not know much about the majority part of the "Silk Road" which extends across Middle East all the way from Beijing to Rome. I think the trade was done in sections back then. The European merchants went as far as Near East (a later term). The Middle Eastern tradesmen went to China. And the Chinese? Being in the richest and most civilized country (back then), they were not interested in trading. They simply sat home and used silk and Chinaware as everyday commodities. It was the "foreign" merchants who came and bought silk or Chinaware. As far as I know, direct Chinese influence and immigration only extended to South East Asia. For a stage set for Spain, I would have to pretend to be a Chinese ambassador or a Chinese astrologer (as I did in some of the Renaissance Faires in Raleigh) if it were a show about the elite, but not this show about "common people". You see, it is hard enough to find one character to fit the show already and I need four. Why four?
This is a story about Carmen and Jose's entangled love live and four stages of their adventures, starting the moment Carmen threw him a flower at the door of the factory, continuing as they were in a Gypsy tavern, joining the revolution, ending at the final scene out side the arena. On stage, we are the back ground by which to mark those places.
In the first act, other than the soldiers, the chorus men are lazy bums to come "meet" with the poor but flirty cigarette factory girls. In second act, we are groupies of Escamillo, the bullfighter, running around party hopping, you know, the Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and their rich friends type. In the third act, Carmen and Jose encountered and joined the smuggler/revolutionaries, something like the Symbionese Liberation Army. Hey, citizen of the universe with our free will as the law! Who does not like that? In the fourth act, we are the family type. We go, with wives and children, to the most popular entertainment of the time; go see the well dressed Picadors stick colorful lances to the side of the bull to draw blood; and go see the much admired and worshiped Escamillo to kill the bull with one thrust of his fine sword (from the libretto).
Now, for my characters: (The following history is made-up) Say, after the Inquisition, it is no longer dangerous in Spain and people started to go there. Let my character in Act I be some one who just came to Spain either from China or from a neighboring country, you know, the first generation migrant type. He is, say, either a Chinese medicine man or an astrologer. He made a lot of money by working hard giving false or superstitious advices to people though he honestly believed in those talks himself. Things never change, do they? Only that they are in California now. Every afternoon he would leave behind his work, wife, and children to go find some entertainment at the town square. Didn't I say things never change? In act two, let my character be none other but this above-mentioned, first generation migrant's son, a second generation migrant. We know them [sic] type too. He wants to get away as far as possible from his parents' old culture. He despises his father's entertainment at the town square but not his father's money. So, he goes to the most popular Gypsy tavern in town, mixing with the Paris Hiltons and Britney Spearses of the time. As for the third act, we can use the theory that my character is one of the descendants of merchants from Marco Polo's period. It was hard to survive the Inquisition (about the time of and extended until long after Marco Polo). Anything you did that your priest did not like was called blasphemy and your head could be chopped off. A Chinese, even after converted into Christianity, might still keep some portraits of their ancestors. That would be enough to win a death penalty. As a result, many of them, along with Jews and other foreigners, were either killed, moved away, or became fugitive. My character is one of these "undocumented". He runs around with a bunch of smuggler and thieves who call themselves freedom fighters, living under the sky, endures a lot of hardship but makes good drug money, perhaps. Now, for the fourth act. Well, the Inquisition was long time ago, even for the 1830s (almost 500 year has past). Some of the Chinese survived alright and some others came out of hiding. They were, after all, good people. My character in the fourth act is one of their descendants. He is a good man, works hard, goes to church, i.e., goes to masses, married a local, and was accepted well in the local society. Like others in his adopted society, he has even picked up the habit of going to the football games, I mean, the bullfights. Prends Garde a toi!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
First dress rehearsal
From Eric Hale:
As promised, last night brought many new things. We were wearing costumes for the first time and some, though not all, of the cast were wearing makeup. The set was in place. The number of props exploded. Wayne was conducting from the pit. And so forth and so on, etc., etc. All that being said, being on the real stage and in costume pumped the energy way up. It’s really feeling like a show now. Here are some observations:
For me, the biggest surprise was in the physical layout of the set. The big set pieces are angled, which adds a lot of visual interest. However, at times, we actually had less space front to back that we were used to. This was especially true in act 3. However, Thomas said he is going to be making some changes to the set. You may not see exactly what I saw last night.
The stage is no less wide, however, and we were singing out into a much larger space than we’ve been rehearsing in. Choruses which sounded thunderously loud in a room now need to be much louder. They will be. Things also just generally sounded differently. I asked Kevin about it at one point and he assured me that the tuning was fine – but that we were about half a beat behind.
Generally, we adapted to the new space pretty well. During the notes, Thomas said that the show got better and better as we got used to the space.
There was a charming moment when Wayne was explaining to the children that they needed keep their heads up while at the same time watching the man in the pit. To sing out and look down is not a natural thing to do, but the kids caught on pretty quickly. One thing I have not commented on before: This is a very, very well behaved group of children. It’s hard on them to have to sit and be quiet for an hour or more, and still keep their energy up on stage. They are doing quite well and I’m sure their parents are very proud. Kudos also to Anne, who taught the children their parts, is responsible for them back stage, and sings in the chorus.
Tonight’s rehearsal is a Wandelprobe. It’s the first rehearsal with the orchestra. The meaning of wandel is roughly the same as the English word stroll, while probe means to rehearse. It means to sing with the orchestra while doing your blocking. As to why it has a German name, I have no idea. This is a working rehearsal and we will be doing a full run. The sound of the orchestra will be very different and we have to get used to it quickly.
Just for reference, there is another type of first orchestra rehearsal, where the cast sits on the stage during the rehearsal. The German name for this is Sitzprobe.
This is a good time to acknowledge Kate, our rehearsal accompanist. She has added so much to the rehearsal period. We can’t thank you enough.
As promised, last night brought many new things. We were wearing costumes for the first time and some, though not all, of the cast were wearing makeup. The set was in place. The number of props exploded. Wayne was conducting from the pit. And so forth and so on, etc., etc. All that being said, being on the real stage and in costume pumped the energy way up. It’s really feeling like a show now. Here are some observations:
For me, the biggest surprise was in the physical layout of the set. The big set pieces are angled, which adds a lot of visual interest. However, at times, we actually had less space front to back that we were used to. This was especially true in act 3. However, Thomas said he is going to be making some changes to the set. You may not see exactly what I saw last night.
The stage is no less wide, however, and we were singing out into a much larger space than we’ve been rehearsing in. Choruses which sounded thunderously loud in a room now need to be much louder. They will be. Things also just generally sounded differently. I asked Kevin about it at one point and he assured me that the tuning was fine – but that we were about half a beat behind.
Generally, we adapted to the new space pretty well. During the notes, Thomas said that the show got better and better as we got used to the space.
There was a charming moment when Wayne was explaining to the children that they needed keep their heads up while at the same time watching the man in the pit. To sing out and look down is not a natural thing to do, but the kids caught on pretty quickly. One thing I have not commented on before: This is a very, very well behaved group of children. It’s hard on them to have to sit and be quiet for an hour or more, and still keep their energy up on stage. They are doing quite well and I’m sure their parents are very proud. Kudos also to Anne, who taught the children their parts, is responsible for them back stage, and sings in the chorus.
Tonight’s rehearsal is a Wandelprobe. It’s the first rehearsal with the orchestra. The meaning of wandel is roughly the same as the English word stroll, while probe means to rehearse. It means to sing with the orchestra while doing your blocking. As to why it has a German name, I have no idea. This is a working rehearsal and we will be doing a full run. The sound of the orchestra will be very different and we have to get used to it quickly.
Just for reference, there is another type of first orchestra rehearsal, where the cast sits on the stage during the rehearsal. The German name for this is Sitzprobe.
This is a good time to acknowledge Kate, our rehearsal accompanist. She has added so much to the rehearsal period. We can’t thank you enough.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The eye of the storm
From Eric Hale:
As I mentioned in my last post, we did not have rehearsal today. That’s unusual, although I’m sure the rest did everyone good. I don’t know how the others spent their evening, but here’s how I spent mine.
I spent part of the time with my family. Evan, my son, and I had wide ranging conversation, touching on everything from the provinces of Canada to politics; chemistry; sushi; Flatland, which he’s about to start reading; video games; and, inevitably, Star Wars – which lead to the biomechanics of lemurs. The last will make sense if you’re ever seen a sifaka jump.
Anna Bess, my wife, and I talked about more prosaic things: How to organize the week so that Evan gets to and from school, her recent visit with her father, both our jobs. More prosaic, maybe, but it’s the stuff of life. Anna Bess is also reading the blog, organizing my opening night posse, handling everything at home, and generally being more supportive than anyone could reasonably ask.
I spent the rest of the evening prepping for tomorrow.
I checked my makeup kit. Everything was in good shape, but I had to run out and buy some moisten wipes, which I use to help take off the makeup.
For costuming, I need to bring black shoes, black socks, and a tee shirt. The tee shirt will make a valiant, but ultimately futile effort to keep the sweat off the costume shirt. My pants are blue, so I pack a navy pair of socks as well.
I spent some time reviewing my music, but that was a secondary focus for tonight. I know my music, but I’m working on getting to the next stage of being able to sing it while moving and acting. Funny how things you think you know can disappear when you’re doing two or three things at once.
I review the blocking notes. I’ve performed in Fletcher twice before, and I spend some time visualizing the stage. I really needed to spend some time thinking about movement. Fletcher is a considerably different environment than any we’re rehearsed in. Here are some of the ways:
We’re going to have some more width than we’re used to, as well as a lot more depth. So, the time to move across stage will be longer. We may also find ourselves further apart, since we have more area to fill.
The area to either side will be divided into short corridors called wings, from which we will enter. The wings are separated by curtains called legs. If the legs move, it's visible from the audience. It’s a safe bet that we’ll be reprimanded at least once a night about making the legs move. I should also mention that the back of the stage area is covered by an enormous curtain called a cyclorama, or cyc for short. The cyc costs five figures, so its visible and potentially very expensive if anything happens to the cyc. The wrath of god will land on your head if you disturb the cyc.
Wayne will be conducting from the orchestra pit, which means we will need to look down to see him. We may find that we can no longer see him, and need to adjust our position. It is more important than ever to watch the conductor now. The orchestra is under us, and we really do not hear the sound coming through the floor. Rather, it goes out and bounces back. Even assuming a steady tempo, if you only use your ears you can find yourself behind the beat.
Finally, we’re going to have to deal with a real set. Platforms which, until now, have been only and abstract concept will be real physical impediments. People you thought were your level will be a couple of feet higher. Seemingly unobstructed pathways will be blocked. On the other hand, Escamillo and the Gypsies will finally be able to dance without fear that the folding table will collapse beneath them.
Tomorrow, we start to sprint. I expect it will be very educational.
As I mentioned in my last post, we did not have rehearsal today. That’s unusual, although I’m sure the rest did everyone good. I don’t know how the others spent their evening, but here’s how I spent mine.
I spent part of the time with my family. Evan, my son, and I had wide ranging conversation, touching on everything from the provinces of Canada to politics; chemistry; sushi; Flatland, which he’s about to start reading; video games; and, inevitably, Star Wars – which lead to the biomechanics of lemurs. The last will make sense if you’re ever seen a sifaka jump.
Anna Bess, my wife, and I talked about more prosaic things: How to organize the week so that Evan gets to and from school, her recent visit with her father, both our jobs. More prosaic, maybe, but it’s the stuff of life. Anna Bess is also reading the blog, organizing my opening night posse, handling everything at home, and generally being more supportive than anyone could reasonably ask.
I spent the rest of the evening prepping for tomorrow.
I checked my makeup kit. Everything was in good shape, but I had to run out and buy some moisten wipes, which I use to help take off the makeup.
For costuming, I need to bring black shoes, black socks, and a tee shirt. The tee shirt will make a valiant, but ultimately futile effort to keep the sweat off the costume shirt. My pants are blue, so I pack a navy pair of socks as well.
I spent some time reviewing my music, but that was a secondary focus for tonight. I know my music, but I’m working on getting to the next stage of being able to sing it while moving and acting. Funny how things you think you know can disappear when you’re doing two or three things at once.
I review the blocking notes. I’ve performed in Fletcher twice before, and I spend some time visualizing the stage. I really needed to spend some time thinking about movement. Fletcher is a considerably different environment than any we’re rehearsed in. Here are some of the ways:
We’re going to have some more width than we’re used to, as well as a lot more depth. So, the time to move across stage will be longer. We may also find ourselves further apart, since we have more area to fill.
The area to either side will be divided into short corridors called wings, from which we will enter. The wings are separated by curtains called legs. If the legs move, it's visible from the audience. It’s a safe bet that we’ll be reprimanded at least once a night about making the legs move. I should also mention that the back of the stage area is covered by an enormous curtain called a cyclorama, or cyc for short. The cyc costs five figures, so its visible and potentially very expensive if anything happens to the cyc. The wrath of god will land on your head if you disturb the cyc.
Wayne will be conducting from the orchestra pit, which means we will need to look down to see him. We may find that we can no longer see him, and need to adjust our position. It is more important than ever to watch the conductor now. The orchestra is under us, and we really do not hear the sound coming through the floor. Rather, it goes out and bounces back. Even assuming a steady tempo, if you only use your ears you can find yourself behind the beat.
Finally, we’re going to have to deal with a real set. Platforms which, until now, have been only and abstract concept will be real physical impediments. People you thought were your level will be a couple of feet higher. Seemingly unobstructed pathways will be blocked. On the other hand, Escamillo and the Gypsies will finally be able to dance without fear that the folding table will collapse beneath them.
Tomorrow, we start to sprint. I expect it will be very educational.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Once more, with feeling
From Eric Hale:
Today, we had our second run through. This time, we were in a large practice room. The extra space helped a lot, as did not having to worry about falling backward off the proscenium. However, because of the change, I’m embarrassed to say that I mixed up left and right on one entrance. This was especially embarrassing, since, within the context of the show, I could not have made that entrance unless I could teleport – and my character’s name ain’t Nightcrawler.
Unfortunately, Anna, our Micaëla, could not be there today. That was a loss.
I can’t speak for anyone else, but today the chorus parts definitely felt better than yesterday. This on-stage action is warming up. I saw a lot on new stuff happening, and played a lot of new things myself – especially the new business Marie and I worked out in act 1.
We also had a few new props today. They helped, a lot. I remember an actor commenting to me once that she didn’t know how actors who don’t smoke could act. “What do you do with your hands?” she asked. I’ll admit that it’s sometimes a problem.
The cigarette girls do have fake cigarettes, but that’s quite a different thing.
Because Anna was out, we cut her parts. So, even with breaks, and having to restart in places, we were able to complete a run in the three hours booked for the rehearsal. I got further this time before my brain turned to mush. That’s a very good sign.
One thing I’ve not yet mentioned is that we sing off-stage part of the time. This is always tricky. In addition to not being able to see the conductor, you have to deal with the sound delays. Even at distances of a few tens of feet, which are what we are dealing with in the theater, the orchestra and the singers can get noticeably out of sync.
The way we compensate for this is to have Kevin conducting off stage. Somehow, Kevin and Wayne can agree on some fraction of a beat that that Kevin will conduct ahead of Wayne. I can’t even imagine the mental gymnastics involved in doing that. The mental gymnastics of the chorus are quite complicated enough. We have to listen to the music on stage for pitch, but ignore the rhythm. When Kevin’s arm comes down, we jump in, no matter what it sounds like back stage. Scary as it is, that’s what it takes to get the music to sound right out front.
We have tomorrow off, which is a huge luxury during production week. I’ll be putting my life in order, because there will be almost nothing in my life except Carmen and work for the next week. I’ll also be brushing up on my music and blocking.
Tuesday, we’re in Fletcher and we’ll be in costume. From that point, things speed up exponentially. Wednesday, we work with the orchestra. Thursday is final dress and Friday is the show. It feels far away and far too close at the same time.
Today, we had our second run through. This time, we were in a large practice room. The extra space helped a lot, as did not having to worry about falling backward off the proscenium. However, because of the change, I’m embarrassed to say that I mixed up left and right on one entrance. This was especially embarrassing, since, within the context of the show, I could not have made that entrance unless I could teleport – and my character’s name ain’t Nightcrawler.
Unfortunately, Anna, our Micaëla, could not be there today. That was a loss.
I can’t speak for anyone else, but today the chorus parts definitely felt better than yesterday. This on-stage action is warming up. I saw a lot on new stuff happening, and played a lot of new things myself – especially the new business Marie and I worked out in act 1.
We also had a few new props today. They helped, a lot. I remember an actor commenting to me once that she didn’t know how actors who don’t smoke could act. “What do you do with your hands?” she asked. I’ll admit that it’s sometimes a problem.
The cigarette girls do have fake cigarettes, but that’s quite a different thing.
Because Anna was out, we cut her parts. So, even with breaks, and having to restart in places, we were able to complete a run in the three hours booked for the rehearsal. I got further this time before my brain turned to mush. That’s a very good sign.
One thing I’ve not yet mentioned is that we sing off-stage part of the time. This is always tricky. In addition to not being able to see the conductor, you have to deal with the sound delays. Even at distances of a few tens of feet, which are what we are dealing with in the theater, the orchestra and the singers can get noticeably out of sync.
The way we compensate for this is to have Kevin conducting off stage. Somehow, Kevin and Wayne can agree on some fraction of a beat that that Kevin will conduct ahead of Wayne. I can’t even imagine the mental gymnastics involved in doing that. The mental gymnastics of the chorus are quite complicated enough. We have to listen to the music on stage for pitch, but ignore the rhythm. When Kevin’s arm comes down, we jump in, no matter what it sounds like back stage. Scary as it is, that’s what it takes to get the music to sound right out front.
We have tomorrow off, which is a huge luxury during production week. I’ll be putting my life in order, because there will be almost nothing in my life except Carmen and work for the next week. I’ll also be brushing up on my music and blocking.
Tuesday, we’re in Fletcher and we’ll be in costume. From that point, things speed up exponentially. Wednesday, we work with the orchestra. Thursday is final dress and Friday is the show. It feels far away and far too close at the same time.
Lunch and E-Mail
From Shiangtai, a member of the chorus
Bonjour!
Because of my e-mail problems, my last posted blog was about an event a few days earlier. This one is about the day after that, not today when we had an afternoon rehearsal.
With a score in front of me under my nose as I described before, it is easy to miss a lunch. I did that again. Luckily, later, in the afternoon while I was at Costco I found out they had food demonstrations every day. You know, we smugglers of the 1830's Seville could always find some solutions to our daily nutritional problems, even in 2000's Durham. We know our history (see Eric's posting) and we always act our parts wherever we go, any time of the day. I walked up and down the isle visiting their demonstration stands and had enough to make up for the lunch I skipped. That in turn reminded me that the day before I worked too long on the kitchen sink and missed a luncheon with some friends. What's that to do with the opera? Yes, a lot. Among that group of friends, many are music lovers. I simply missed the chance to tell them how wonderful our Carmen production would be. Well, I just have to tell them by e-mail.
That's right, I am collecting a whole bunch of names and e-mail addresses of my friends and I will write a message to rave about, I mean, to tell them truthfully about this production of Carmen. I will then send the message to all of them by putting all their names in the "Cc" field in the e-mail header. No, that is not right. Many of my friends do not know each other. Privacy is a very important issue to many people nowadays. They do not want their names and addresses show up on some strangers' computers. Moi aussi, me too. One thing I hate is for my name to be mixed with a whole bunch of strangers going to some strange places. "Sul la place, chacum passe ..." So, I will put their names in the "Bcc" field in the header.
Mes amis, my friends!! I know you are very excited about this opera (and about this Opera Blog, of course). Write to your friends about it. If you hate to send the same message many times over, put all your friends names and addresses on the same message but don't forget to use "Bcc"! "Toreador, en garde! Et songe en combattant, oui, et songe que l'amour t'attent." (Toreador, be careful! Concentrate on the fight and, yes, think of the love that awaits.) Yes, my score awaits. I have spent too much time writing these blogs. Time to go back to my score. Ciao.
Bonjour!
Because of my e-mail problems, my last posted blog was about an event a few days earlier. This one is about the day after that, not today when we had an afternoon rehearsal.
With a score in front of me under my nose as I described before, it is easy to miss a lunch. I did that again. Luckily, later, in the afternoon while I was at Costco I found out they had food demonstrations every day. You know, we smugglers of the 1830's Seville could always find some solutions to our daily nutritional problems, even in 2000's Durham. We know our history (see Eric's posting) and we always act our parts wherever we go, any time of the day. I walked up and down the isle visiting their demonstration stands and had enough to make up for the lunch I skipped. That in turn reminded me that the day before I worked too long on the kitchen sink and missed a luncheon with some friends. What's that to do with the opera? Yes, a lot. Among that group of friends, many are music lovers. I simply missed the chance to tell them how wonderful our Carmen production would be. Well, I just have to tell them by e-mail.
That's right, I am collecting a whole bunch of names and e-mail addresses of my friends and I will write a message to rave about, I mean, to tell them truthfully about this production of Carmen. I will then send the message to all of them by putting all their names in the "Cc" field in the e-mail header. No, that is not right. Many of my friends do not know each other. Privacy is a very important issue to many people nowadays. They do not want their names and addresses show up on some strangers' computers. Moi aussi, me too. One thing I hate is for my name to be mixed with a whole bunch of strangers going to some strange places. "Sul la place, chacum passe ..." So, I will put their names in the "Bcc" field in the header.
Mes amis, my friends!! I know you are very excited about this opera (and about this Opera Blog, of course). Write to your friends about it. If you hate to send the same message many times over, put all your friends names and addresses on the same message but don't forget to use "Bcc"! "Toreador, en garde! Et songe en combattant, oui, et songe que l'amour t'attent." (Toreador, be careful! Concentrate on the fight and, yes, think of the love that awaits.) Yes, my score awaits. I have spent too much time writing these blogs. Time to go back to my score. Ciao.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Soup to nuts
From Eric Hale:
Today we began the week when it all has to come together with our first real run: top to bottom, beginning to end, soup to nuts. This is a major milestone in any rehearsal period. It’s the first time when you can really say “We have a show.”
It would be wonderful to say everything went smoothly. It didn’t, of course. I’ve never been in a show where first run through went smoothly. However, I’ve been in shows that opened in worse shape than we were today.
I wish I could give you a coherent narrative, but I can’t. There was so much to think about that the time goes by in a blur. Here are some things I remember:
It was my first time trying to sing all the music from memory. I was better than I feared, not as good as I hoped. Oddly, my memory kicked out partway through the third act. I suspect that I was just tired by that point. Still, I’m feeling pretty confident about knowing the music.
The space we are working in is much smaller than the stage at Fletcher. As a result, there are times where there is no way to move without climbing on a table, jumping off the proscenium, elbowing other cast members off the stage, or levitation. It’s a little claustrophobic, but it’s also temporary. When we get to the real stage, we’ll have a lot more freedom.
The chorus is on stage a lot more in Carmen than in many other operas. We’re on stage for the first 50 pages of the score – and we keep coming back. The challenge is not to look like the chorus in a bad production of HMS Pinafore. I’ve written before about how we work on our characters, but today was the first time we encountered all the time we need to fill. Encountering these things scene by scene is different than running them all together, just as doing a series of 10 mile runs does not really prepare you for a marathon. However, we’ve proven we can do it now, and my experience is that shows seem to get shorter as we rehearse them.
That being said, we do have stretches where the principals are on stage. I spent most of those with my face in the score, reviewing my notes for the next act. So, I can’t give you a full report on their performances. I can say that the parts I did watch seemed like they were in great shape.
I had written in an earlier blog post about getting my hand caught in Escamillo’s cape. Steven showed me how to solve that problem, and we had no difficulty this time.
The rehearsal was booked for 4 hours. The run started a little late, about 2:15. Even with the places where we restarted and worked parts, we finished at 5:57. There was some discussion afterward. Then we headed home, tired and with more work to do.
Tomorrow’s rehearsal is a piano run. I need to go study now.
Today we began the week when it all has to come together with our first real run: top to bottom, beginning to end, soup to nuts. This is a major milestone in any rehearsal period. It’s the first time when you can really say “We have a show.”
It would be wonderful to say everything went smoothly. It didn’t, of course. I’ve never been in a show where first run through went smoothly. However, I’ve been in shows that opened in worse shape than we were today.
I wish I could give you a coherent narrative, but I can’t. There was so much to think about that the time goes by in a blur. Here are some things I remember:
It was my first time trying to sing all the music from memory. I was better than I feared, not as good as I hoped. Oddly, my memory kicked out partway through the third act. I suspect that I was just tired by that point. Still, I’m feeling pretty confident about knowing the music.
The space we are working in is much smaller than the stage at Fletcher. As a result, there are times where there is no way to move without climbing on a table, jumping off the proscenium, elbowing other cast members off the stage, or levitation. It’s a little claustrophobic, but it’s also temporary. When we get to the real stage, we’ll have a lot more freedom.
The chorus is on stage a lot more in Carmen than in many other operas. We’re on stage for the first 50 pages of the score – and we keep coming back. The challenge is not to look like the chorus in a bad production of HMS Pinafore. I’ve written before about how we work on our characters, but today was the first time we encountered all the time we need to fill. Encountering these things scene by scene is different than running them all together, just as doing a series of 10 mile runs does not really prepare you for a marathon. However, we’ve proven we can do it now, and my experience is that shows seem to get shorter as we rehearse them.
That being said, we do have stretches where the principals are on stage. I spent most of those with my face in the score, reviewing my notes for the next act. So, I can’t give you a full report on their performances. I can say that the parts I did watch seemed like they were in great shape.
I had written in an earlier blog post about getting my hand caught in Escamillo’s cape. Steven showed me how to solve that problem, and we had no difficulty this time.
The rehearsal was booked for 4 hours. The run started a little late, about 2:15. Even with the places where we restarted and worked parts, we finished at 5:57. There was some discussion afterward. Then we headed home, tired and with more work to do.
Tomorrow’s rehearsal is a piano run. I need to go study now.
Kitchen Sink Faucet
From Shiangtai, still a member in the chorus, he hopes:
Didn't I tell you I was to fix my kitchen sink faucet but put off because of the Carmen rehearsals. It would only take a couple of hours but it is not the time. It is the mind set. When we wanted to do something in addition to what is really necessary like our day time job or school work, we would have the feeling that we should spend the time working on Carmen. Because of that, I almost decided to put off fixing the sink till after the show. Well, I was also worried about the towel I put under the sink getting too wet. So I decided to work on it during the break in rehearsal these couple of days. I thought, "Well, I can work on Carmen while fixing the sink the way I prepare my breakfast." Alright, I have to explain that.
Every morning, I would pick a section of our chorus parts to work on while cooking in the kitchen. Say, while making porridge for breakfast, it is the opening number when we lazy bums lounging around the plaza singing: "Sul la place, chacum passe" (at the town square, everyone passes by). You know, we are like people in Chapel Hill. Every body sits on the little stone wall on Franklin Street watching people to go by. Now, it is better to use milk than water to make porridge. The reaching for milk from the fridge music is the second line: "Chacum vient, chacum va" (someone comes, someone goes). That's right. Milk vient, water va. Then, "Droles de gens que ces gens-la!" (those, there, the drolly people), I am sure I would be drooling thinking about my porridge while I sing those lines on stage. No, I am supposed to be thinking about the cigarette factory honeys who are due coming out. How lovely. Oh, yes, honey. A little honey would help in my porridge. Well, I am afraid I get carried away describing how to make breakfast with music, no, with oats, while I should be talking about how to combine kitchen sink with chorus work. Voila. Here it is.
Even after removing everything from under the sink, it was still pretty bad in the little closet. In fact, I did wish some cigarette factory workers would come blow cigarette smoke in there. It would be better than or, at least, would mask, the smell of those cleaners. In any case, I chose a more uplifting section of the chorus part for this work, the part when we greet Carmen: "Carmen, sur tes pas nous nous pressons tous" (Carmen, on your steps we hasten to follow). It was pretty crowded under there. It was not anyone's steps but my own arm that was pressed on my face when I sang "Carmen, sul tes pas don't you press on my tooth".
"No, don't do that." I said to myself: "you may get into the habit and slip on stage. You are blocked* to sit on a bench DL**, pretty much DS**. If you slipped and sang that on stage, even no one in the audience might hear it, the conductor would definitely hear it and probably kick you out. Then, you would not be able to do the next three acts!"
*To bLock: As Eric explained in one of the earlier postings in this Blog, blocking is the positioning or the movement of the actors on stage given by the director.
** DL (or DSL) = Down stage Left, DS = Down Stage. Following Eric's precedent, I will say something about stage terms as they come. When you stand CS (Center Stage, at the very middle of the stage) facing the audience, to your left is stage left (SL), to your right is stage right (SR). DS means the half of the stage in front of you or movement towards that direction. US (Up Stage) means the direction behind you. So someone might enter UR, go to CS, deliver a line, and then go DL to join a group of friends ... etc.
Didn't I tell you I was to fix my kitchen sink faucet but put off because of the Carmen rehearsals. It would only take a couple of hours but it is not the time. It is the mind set. When we wanted to do something in addition to what is really necessary like our day time job or school work, we would have the feeling that we should spend the time working on Carmen. Because of that, I almost decided to put off fixing the sink till after the show. Well, I was also worried about the towel I put under the sink getting too wet. So I decided to work on it during the break in rehearsal these couple of days. I thought, "Well, I can work on Carmen while fixing the sink the way I prepare my breakfast." Alright, I have to explain that.
Every morning, I would pick a section of our chorus parts to work on while cooking in the kitchen. Say, while making porridge for breakfast, it is the opening number when we lazy bums lounging around the plaza singing: "Sul la place, chacum passe" (at the town square, everyone passes by). You know, we are like people in Chapel Hill. Every body sits on the little stone wall on Franklin Street watching people to go by. Now, it is better to use milk than water to make porridge. The reaching for milk from the fridge music is the second line: "Chacum vient, chacum va" (someone comes, someone goes). That's right. Milk vient, water va. Then, "Droles de gens que ces gens-la!" (those, there, the drolly people), I am sure I would be drooling thinking about my porridge while I sing those lines on stage. No, I am supposed to be thinking about the cigarette factory honeys who are due coming out. How lovely. Oh, yes, honey. A little honey would help in my porridge. Well, I am afraid I get carried away describing how to make breakfast with music, no, with oats, while I should be talking about how to combine kitchen sink with chorus work. Voila. Here it is.
Even after removing everything from under the sink, it was still pretty bad in the little closet. In fact, I did wish some cigarette factory workers would come blow cigarette smoke in there. It would be better than or, at least, would mask, the smell of those cleaners. In any case, I chose a more uplifting section of the chorus part for this work, the part when we greet Carmen: "Carmen, sur tes pas nous nous pressons tous" (Carmen, on your steps we hasten to follow). It was pretty crowded under there. It was not anyone's steps but my own arm that was pressed on my face when I sang "Carmen, sul tes pas don't you press on my tooth".
"No, don't do that." I said to myself: "you may get into the habit and slip on stage. You are blocked* to sit on a bench DL**, pretty much DS**. If you slipped and sang that on stage, even no one in the audience might hear it, the conductor would definitely hear it and probably kick you out. Then, you would not be able to do the next three acts!"
*To bLock: As Eric explained in one of the earlier postings in this Blog, blocking is the positioning or the movement of the actors on stage given by the director.
** DL (or DSL) = Down stage Left, DS = Down Stage. Following Eric's precedent, I will say something about stage terms as they come. When you stand CS (Center Stage, at the very middle of the stage) facing the audience, to your left is stage left (SL), to your right is stage right (SR). DS means the half of the stage in front of you or movement towards that direction. US (Up Stage) means the direction behind you. So someone might enter UR, go to CS, deliver a line, and then go DL to join a group of friends ... etc.
Friday, October 10, 2008
A moment of thanks
From Eric Hale:
Those who know me know that this has been a difficult year. I won’t go into why. However, this year, I do feel acutely what a privilege is able to do a show. I am also aware, more than ever, that this is not something I do alone. I get a lot of help. I need a lot of help.
As I am writing this, we are one week from opening. Tomorrow, Saturday, begins the frenzy that is production week. Every day will bring something new: running the show from beginning to end, singing with the orchestra, wearing costumes and makeup, rehearsing in Fletcher Opera Theater for the first time, working on the real set and with real props, having a real audience.
There’s not going to be much time to think for the next six days. So, before we get into to all that, I want to say a word about all the people who pay a price this week and who do it for us. I don’t mean to ignore the cast and crew, but we have our rituals. There will be cards on opening night, candy, gifts, parties, hugs, and all the celebration that surrounds a show. I appreciate each of you more than you know.
That being said, this is to all people whose names will not going in the program, but who are a vital part of the opera none the less:
To all the children who will miss us while we’re gone this week, thank you.
To all the spouses, partners, and other family who take on the responsibilities that should be ours, and who also miss us while we’re gone, thank you.
To all the friends who support us with time, patience and even shell out the price of a ticket, thank you.
To the co-workers who understand if we’re a little short tempered and ask at the coffee pot how the opera is going, thank you.
To the bosses who make it so much easier than it might be to be in the opera, thank you.
To everyone with an artist or a performer in your life, know that you are appreciated and loved. We could not do it without you.
Those who know me know that this has been a difficult year. I won’t go into why. However, this year, I do feel acutely what a privilege is able to do a show. I am also aware, more than ever, that this is not something I do alone. I get a lot of help. I need a lot of help.
As I am writing this, we are one week from opening. Tomorrow, Saturday, begins the frenzy that is production week. Every day will bring something new: running the show from beginning to end, singing with the orchestra, wearing costumes and makeup, rehearsing in Fletcher Opera Theater for the first time, working on the real set and with real props, having a real audience.
There’s not going to be much time to think for the next six days. So, before we get into to all that, I want to say a word about all the people who pay a price this week and who do it for us. I don’t mean to ignore the cast and crew, but we have our rituals. There will be cards on opening night, candy, gifts, parties, hugs, and all the celebration that surrounds a show. I appreciate each of you more than you know.
That being said, this is to all people whose names will not going in the program, but who are a vital part of the opera none the less:
To all the children who will miss us while we’re gone this week, thank you.
To all the spouses, partners, and other family who take on the responsibilities that should be ours, and who also miss us while we’re gone, thank you.
To all the friends who support us with time, patience and even shell out the price of a ticket, thank you.
To the co-workers who understand if we’re a little short tempered and ask at the coffee pot how the opera is going, thank you.
To the bosses who make it so much easier than it might be to be in the opera, thank you.
To everyone with an artist or a performer in your life, know that you are appreciated and loved. We could not do it without you.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
What's with all the history?
From Eric Hale:
I just received my first e-mail from the blog. It was one line long. Here’s the quote: “What’s with all the history?”
At least it wasn’t “Why so serious?”
I was confused at first, but then I reread my posts. I mentioned history in the last two posts, so I will assume that is what the e-mail is about. If I get this wrong, my secret admirer may feel free to mail me a clarification.
As actors, it’s important that we know the circumstances of our characters. These are the things that determine how the character will react. As a general rule, the bigger your part, the more information the script gives about your character. For those in the chorus, there’s not much guidance. For this show, the chorus is given the time, place, and a few group designations – soldiers, smugglers, cigarette girls. The rest is up to us.
So, among the questions you have to answer is this one: How would a bystander (or soldier, etc.) living in 1830s Spain react? To know that, you have to know some basics about the history and culture. Let’s consider one case as a concrete example: Micaëla’s entrance in act 1. Based on the little I have learned about the period, I can list some things about that entrance to which my character might react:
* She’s not familiar. That’s unusual enough to be noticed, but Seville is a big city, so it’s not particularly noteworthy.
* She’s a woman who is wandering the streets alone. In that day and time this would have been scandalous, and quite dangerous also.
* She approaches men she clearly does not know. In that day and time, this alone would have been enough to get people wondering how she supports herself.
* The men are soldiers. That goes from scandalous to potentially suicidal. More on the soldiers below.
* She’s looking for a particular soldier, which would lead to a rather obvious assumption about why.
In short, an interaction which would barely get noticed in 21st century America is very significant in early 19th century Spain. If you don’t know the enormous risks Micaëla is taking with her reputation and physical safety, the scene does not make sense.
Now, I have to note that the opera is not intended to portray Spain accurately. However, that does not change the fact that the more we know about the attitudes and culture of the time, the better choices we can make as actors.
That’s why all the history.
A quick digression on the soldiers: The army then was not like the army now. In this time and place, being a professional soldier was not a respected profession. If you think of them like mob enforcers, you have a better idea of how they were considered. While the officers were from the middle and upper classes, the rank and file were thugs paid by the state. They were held in such low esteem that even as late as World War I parts of Europe still considered a conscript army superior to a professional army. I have read that poet A. E. Housman wrote “Epitaph On An Army of Mercenaries” because Kaiser Wilhelm insulting described the British Army as a bunch of mercenaries.
I have to thank David Drake, another of the brilliant people I am privileged to call friend. He has provided me with a lot of historical data for several of the shows I’ve been in, including this one. You have to admire someone with an intellect versatile enough to write science fiction and translate Ovid. His site is at http://www.david-drake.com/
Since I know Dave is a Housman fan, I’ll close this one with the poem I mentioned above.
“Epitaph On An Army of Mercenaries”
These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.
I just received my first e-mail from the blog. It was one line long. Here’s the quote: “What’s with all the history?”
At least it wasn’t “Why so serious?”
I was confused at first, but then I reread my posts. I mentioned history in the last two posts, so I will assume that is what the e-mail is about. If I get this wrong, my secret admirer may feel free to mail me a clarification.
As actors, it’s important that we know the circumstances of our characters. These are the things that determine how the character will react. As a general rule, the bigger your part, the more information the script gives about your character. For those in the chorus, there’s not much guidance. For this show, the chorus is given the time, place, and a few group designations – soldiers, smugglers, cigarette girls. The rest is up to us.
So, among the questions you have to answer is this one: How would a bystander (or soldier, etc.) living in 1830s Spain react? To know that, you have to know some basics about the history and culture. Let’s consider one case as a concrete example: Micaëla’s entrance in act 1. Based on the little I have learned about the period, I can list some things about that entrance to which my character might react:
* She’s not familiar. That’s unusual enough to be noticed, but Seville is a big city, so it’s not particularly noteworthy.
* She’s a woman who is wandering the streets alone. In that day and time this would have been scandalous, and quite dangerous also.
* She approaches men she clearly does not know. In that day and time, this alone would have been enough to get people wondering how she supports herself.
* The men are soldiers. That goes from scandalous to potentially suicidal. More on the soldiers below.
* She’s looking for a particular soldier, which would lead to a rather obvious assumption about why.
In short, an interaction which would barely get noticed in 21st century America is very significant in early 19th century Spain. If you don’t know the enormous risks Micaëla is taking with her reputation and physical safety, the scene does not make sense.
Now, I have to note that the opera is not intended to portray Spain accurately. However, that does not change the fact that the more we know about the attitudes and culture of the time, the better choices we can make as actors.
That’s why all the history.
A quick digression on the soldiers: The army then was not like the army now. In this time and place, being a professional soldier was not a respected profession. If you think of them like mob enforcers, you have a better idea of how they were considered. While the officers were from the middle and upper classes, the rank and file were thugs paid by the state. They were held in such low esteem that even as late as World War I parts of Europe still considered a conscript army superior to a professional army. I have read that poet A. E. Housman wrote “Epitaph On An Army of Mercenaries” because Kaiser Wilhelm insulting described the British Army as a bunch of mercenaries.
I have to thank David Drake, another of the brilliant people I am privileged to call friend. He has provided me with a lot of historical data for several of the shows I’ve been in, including this one. You have to admire someone with an intellect versatile enough to write science fiction and translate Ovid. His site is at http://www.david-drake.com/
Since I know Dave is a Housman fan, I’ll close this one with the poem I mentioned above.
“Epitaph On An Army of Mercenaries”
These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth's foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The art of chorus acting
From Eric Hale:
Let’s get this out of the way: I know there are people who think the words acting and opera do not belong in the same sentence. However, the standards for performance in opera have evolved a lot in the last half century. It’s not been enough to walk out on stage and just sing for a long time.
Part of the problem is the constraints of opera force a certain stylization. For example: Unlike musical theater, where you may be miked, you can’t really turn away from the audience while singing. The need to sing affects your facial expression to a degree and proper breath support makes some postures impractical.
It’s also true that there are some very bad actors singing opera. However, there are some very bad actors who, somehow, get cast just to act. You can’t judge the entire field by cherry picking a few bad examples. I can tell you, having seen our principals in action, that they take the acting part of their performance very seriously.
However, this post is not about the principals. Today, I’m talking about acting in the chorus. I’m not even going to get close to finishing this topic, but let’s make a start.
As with all actors, the members of the chorus spend time developing their characters. We read about the history of the period and write the back story on our character. We decide what our relationships will be with the other characters on stage. We react to the action on stage and find ways to be part of the action of stage – a discrete part of the action true, but involved.
We have to respect the realities of being in the chorus. For example, we are frequently blocked as a group. When you enter or exit with 20 other people, your options are more limited. Also, it’s wrong to try to steal a scene during a principal’s big moment. This is not about egos; it’s about being fair to the audience. There is a structure to the show. If you are distracting the audience during a famous aria, you may well have ruined the entire scene for them. Remember, for much of the time, you are background. We need to look believable if an audience member should look at us, but know that much of the time they will not be.
There are opportunities to be creative though. When Capital Opera did La traviata last year, I was in a group which was supposed to get up and move across stage so that the scene was clear for the principal action. The motion felt really unmotivated to me. Wayne was directing that show, and I asked him if it would be OK to have someone make me move. Wayne said yes, so I asked Tom Link to help. In addition to his bass voice, Tom towers over my 6 feet, which really helped motivate the movement. After we played with the action some, Tom and I had filled a relatively down moment with something interesting.
By the way, Tom is playing Zuniga in Carmen.
My compliments to those who recognized the title of this entry as a pun on Michael Green’s book The Art of Coarse Acting. I can’t recommend this book enough to anyone who loves theater or just loves a good laugh.
Let’s get this out of the way: I know there are people who think the words acting and opera do not belong in the same sentence. However, the standards for performance in opera have evolved a lot in the last half century. It’s not been enough to walk out on stage and just sing for a long time.
Part of the problem is the constraints of opera force a certain stylization. For example: Unlike musical theater, where you may be miked, you can’t really turn away from the audience while singing. The need to sing affects your facial expression to a degree and proper breath support makes some postures impractical.
It’s also true that there are some very bad actors singing opera. However, there are some very bad actors who, somehow, get cast just to act. You can’t judge the entire field by cherry picking a few bad examples. I can tell you, having seen our principals in action, that they take the acting part of their performance very seriously.
However, this post is not about the principals. Today, I’m talking about acting in the chorus. I’m not even going to get close to finishing this topic, but let’s make a start.
As with all actors, the members of the chorus spend time developing their characters. We read about the history of the period and write the back story on our character. We decide what our relationships will be with the other characters on stage. We react to the action on stage and find ways to be part of the action of stage – a discrete part of the action true, but involved.
We have to respect the realities of being in the chorus. For example, we are frequently blocked as a group. When you enter or exit with 20 other people, your options are more limited. Also, it’s wrong to try to steal a scene during a principal’s big moment. This is not about egos; it’s about being fair to the audience. There is a structure to the show. If you are distracting the audience during a famous aria, you may well have ruined the entire scene for them. Remember, for much of the time, you are background. We need to look believable if an audience member should look at us, but know that much of the time they will not be.
There are opportunities to be creative though. When Capital Opera did La traviata last year, I was in a group which was supposed to get up and move across stage so that the scene was clear for the principal action. The motion felt really unmotivated to me. Wayne was directing that show, and I asked him if it would be OK to have someone make me move. Wayne said yes, so I asked Tom Link to help. In addition to his bass voice, Tom towers over my 6 feet, which really helped motivate the movement. After we played with the action some, Tom and I had filled a relatively down moment with something interesting.
By the way, Tom is playing Zuniga in Carmen.
My compliments to those who recognized the title of this entry as a pun on Michael Green’s book The Art of Coarse Acting. I can’t recommend this book enough to anyone who loves theater or just loves a good laugh.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Slogging through the mud
From Eric Hale:
This blog has mostly been upbeat. That is appropriate, because being in a show is a glorious thing. Outside of my family and a few dear friends, almost nothing makes me feel happier or more alive than being on stage. However, there are dark moods too, and I would not be honest if I didn’t mention that.
On his blog, novelist Mark L. Van Name has talked about “the dread”. It’s a period in the middle of writing a book when the writer becomes convinced that the book is utter drek, that not one person is going to like it, that he’s never going to finish it, and that, if he does, this will be the book that kills his career.
I experience something similar in the middle of the rehearsal period of most shows. There’s a point when the excitement of the new has worn off. You’ve been through the whole score and you’re not learning the music fast enough. You’re trying to learn your blocking and the history for the period and working on your character and trying to define relationships with the other characters and trying to think up business on stage and you look at the calendar and opening night is rushing toward you, as inevitable as the fall of night.
In that moment, I have only one thought: I can’t do this.
I reached that point about 4 days ago. I’m coming out of it now, or I would not even be able to write about it. As I said, it happens to me almost every show. I remember crashing during rehearsals for L'elisir d'amore. Lisa Fredenburg was the chorus master for that show and she almost had to talk me in off the ledge.
These times are not limited to opera, although not knowing the language does make the problem worse. I remember a production of Josephene the Mouse Singer – Play by Mclure, story by Kafka, dialog in blank verse. The cast, including me, didn’t have a clue what we were doing. Oy.
The cure for me is as simple as it is unexciting: Just keep slogging through the mud. Keep learn the next measure of music, learn the next bit of blocking, and bit by bit the light comes back.
Things really kick into gear on Saturday, when we start the final week of production. We’ll be dealing with something new every night, right up to opening. It’s a wonderful, fast-paced time and I’ll get more excited by the day. By opening night, I’ll be bouncing around like a cage full of monkeys on crack.
It happens every time.
I should note that Mark is generally an upbeat guy, part of my extended family, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. His site is at http://www.marklvanname.com/
This blog has mostly been upbeat. That is appropriate, because being in a show is a glorious thing. Outside of my family and a few dear friends, almost nothing makes me feel happier or more alive than being on stage. However, there are dark moods too, and I would not be honest if I didn’t mention that.
On his blog, novelist Mark L. Van Name has talked about “the dread”. It’s a period in the middle of writing a book when the writer becomes convinced that the book is utter drek, that not one person is going to like it, that he’s never going to finish it, and that, if he does, this will be the book that kills his career.
I experience something similar in the middle of the rehearsal period of most shows. There’s a point when the excitement of the new has worn off. You’ve been through the whole score and you’re not learning the music fast enough. You’re trying to learn your blocking and the history for the period and working on your character and trying to define relationships with the other characters and trying to think up business on stage and you look at the calendar and opening night is rushing toward you, as inevitable as the fall of night.
In that moment, I have only one thought: I can’t do this.
I reached that point about 4 days ago. I’m coming out of it now, or I would not even be able to write about it. As I said, it happens to me almost every show. I remember crashing during rehearsals for L'elisir d'amore. Lisa Fredenburg was the chorus master for that show and she almost had to talk me in off the ledge.
These times are not limited to opera, although not knowing the language does make the problem worse. I remember a production of Josephene the Mouse Singer – Play by Mclure, story by Kafka, dialog in blank verse. The cast, including me, didn’t have a clue what we were doing. Oy.
The cure for me is as simple as it is unexciting: Just keep slogging through the mud. Keep learn the next measure of music, learn the next bit of blocking, and bit by bit the light comes back.
Things really kick into gear on Saturday, when we start the final week of production. We’ll be dealing with something new every night, right up to opening. It’s a wonderful, fast-paced time and I’ll get more excited by the day. By opening night, I’ll be bouncing around like a cage full of monkeys on crack.
It happens every time.
I should note that Mark is generally an upbeat guy, part of my extended family, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. His site is at http://www.marklvanname.com/
One whole day
From Shiangtai, a member in the chorus:
Today, I managed to waste a whole day. How? With the score in front of me, under my nose.
We have a music rehearsal this evening and one tomorrow. Our chorus master said if we did well today we could have tomorrow off. I wanted to do all I can do to memorized the whole thing, to be sure to come in on time, to sing at any speed ... etc., you know, all the good things we are supposed to do.
So, even though my kitchen sink faucet has a leak and I have bought a replacement for it, I left it aside but decided to devote the while day for the music.
Honestly, in the entire day, other than the time I took to go to the bathroom and to have two (not even three) meals, I sat there with the score in front of me.
That was not completely true. I did get up to have a cup of water once while, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up for some tea, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up to check e-mail, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up for some chocolate, but I went right back and sat down. And so on and so forth.
How much work did I accomplish all day? I got through about *ten* lines by reading them each about *three* times. What did I do the rest of the time. I was thinking about how much I need to work on the music or I was sitting there thinking of absolutely nothing. That is why I said I wasted a whole day today with the score in front of me.
When this is all over, I will have mastered the art of thinking of nothing -- a yoga master, perhaps. Or, more realistically, I would need to be treated for ADD!!
Today, I managed to waste a whole day. How? With the score in front of me, under my nose.
We have a music rehearsal this evening and one tomorrow. Our chorus master said if we did well today we could have tomorrow off. I wanted to do all I can do to memorized the whole thing, to be sure to come in on time, to sing at any speed ... etc., you know, all the good things we are supposed to do.
So, even though my kitchen sink faucet has a leak and I have bought a replacement for it, I left it aside but decided to devote the while day for the music.
Honestly, in the entire day, other than the time I took to go to the bathroom and to have two (not even three) meals, I sat there with the score in front of me.
That was not completely true. I did get up to have a cup of water once while, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up for some tea, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up to check e-mail, but I went right back and sat down; I did get up for some chocolate, but I went right back and sat down. And so on and so forth.
How much work did I accomplish all day? I got through about *ten* lines by reading them each about *three* times. What did I do the rest of the time. I was thinking about how much I need to work on the music or I was sitting there thinking of absolutely nothing. That is why I said I wasted a whole day today with the score in front of me.
When this is all over, I will have mastered the art of thinking of nothing -- a yoga master, perhaps. Or, more realistically, I would need to be treated for ADD!!
Monday, October 6, 2008
Making the picture
From Eric Hale:
Sunday was a very busy day and I did not get to write. I apologize. Fortunately, Shiangtai came through.
We had 6 hours of blocking rehearsal over the weekend. In that time we blocked all the parts of the opera involving the chorus. We also got to run parts of the blocking with the principals on Sunday.
As I mentioned in my earlier post, bloking rehearsals can be demoralizing. You’re moving, trying to juggle a book, write your blocking notes, and sing music you haven’t fully learned yet. You’re also holding in your imagination where the platforms, tables, chairs and other bits of scenery are. There’s a lot to keep track of. So much so that I can only comment on things that involved me directly. Even when I was not involved in the action, as in the children’s march, I was scribbling notes, or studying the music for the next section. So, I’m sure that many interesting things happened which I missed. Perhaps someone else will contribute their perspective.
One way that Thomas works is to say “Let’s just make the picture, then we’ll figure out how we get there.” That gives us a clear understanding where we need to be before we start trying to move.
There are surprises, and much can spring from a little change. During Sunday’s rehearsal, Thomas changed one of my entrances and told me that I would be reading a book. That’s all good for me, as a book is a great prop with which to work. However, I need to rethink my character. Literacy was not very common among early 19th century peasants, so I need a credible back story that explains why my character can read. That affects my current job and standing in the community, and hence my relationships to the other people on stage.
These rehearsals are also times when you discover problems. For example, when Escamillo makes his first big entrance, I’m carrying his cape for him. I had it draped over my arm. I had not thought through the fact that when he grabbed it, my hand would be trapped – as it was during the rehearsal of the Toreador song. Fortunately, Steven is pretty quick on the uptake, and managed to release my hand without stopping the song. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.
There was also a truly awful pun by Wayne involving the the word turnips. It would take too long to explain, but it was truly a groaner of epic proportions.
Since thre rehearsal, I’ve been through my score and copied my blocking notes, at least the ones I could read. When we show up on Saturday, I’ll need to be able to do the movement without the book. Fortunately, my memory for blocking is generally good, so that does not intimidate me as much as memorizing the rest of my music.
My next rehearsal is Saturday. I have much to get done before then.
On a different topic, I must commend Ellen Williams for hosting the Capital Opera Donor Appreciation Evening Sunday. Ellen did an excellent job. The event was very successful, with good food and wine, and some very excellent singing by Cheryse McLeod Lewis (Carmen), Anna Kirby (Micaela), and Steven Jepson (Escamillo). The three performers were also very generous with their time and charmed the guests.
Sunday was a very busy day and I did not get to write. I apologize. Fortunately, Shiangtai came through.
We had 6 hours of blocking rehearsal over the weekend. In that time we blocked all the parts of the opera involving the chorus. We also got to run parts of the blocking with the principals on Sunday.
As I mentioned in my earlier post, bloking rehearsals can be demoralizing. You’re moving, trying to juggle a book, write your blocking notes, and sing music you haven’t fully learned yet. You’re also holding in your imagination where the platforms, tables, chairs and other bits of scenery are. There’s a lot to keep track of. So much so that I can only comment on things that involved me directly. Even when I was not involved in the action, as in the children’s march, I was scribbling notes, or studying the music for the next section. So, I’m sure that many interesting things happened which I missed. Perhaps someone else will contribute their perspective.
One way that Thomas works is to say “Let’s just make the picture, then we’ll figure out how we get there.” That gives us a clear understanding where we need to be before we start trying to move.
There are surprises, and much can spring from a little change. During Sunday’s rehearsal, Thomas changed one of my entrances and told me that I would be reading a book. That’s all good for me, as a book is a great prop with which to work. However, I need to rethink my character. Literacy was not very common among early 19th century peasants, so I need a credible back story that explains why my character can read. That affects my current job and standing in the community, and hence my relationships to the other people on stage.
These rehearsals are also times when you discover problems. For example, when Escamillo makes his first big entrance, I’m carrying his cape for him. I had it draped over my arm. I had not thought through the fact that when he grabbed it, my hand would be trapped – as it was during the rehearsal of the Toreador song. Fortunately, Steven is pretty quick on the uptake, and managed to release my hand without stopping the song. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.
There was also a truly awful pun by Wayne involving the the word turnips. It would take too long to explain, but it was truly a groaner of epic proportions.
Since thre rehearsal, I’ve been through my score and copied my blocking notes, at least the ones I could read. When we show up on Saturday, I’ll need to be able to do the movement without the book. Fortunately, my memory for blocking is generally good, so that does not intimidate me as much as memorizing the rest of my music.
My next rehearsal is Saturday. I have much to get done before then.
On a different topic, I must commend Ellen Williams for hosting the Capital Opera Donor Appreciation Evening Sunday. Ellen did an excellent job. The event was very successful, with good food and wine, and some very excellent singing by Cheryse McLeod Lewis (Carmen), Anna Kirby (Micaela), and Steven Jepson (Escamillo). The three performers were also very generous with their time and charmed the guests.
Interesting Tidbits
From Shiangtai Tuan, a member in the chorus:
It is embarrassing that I only recently learned the word Verismo, as in Verismo operas. I learned that word while studying about Carmen so I could tell another group of friends about our production. As the result of the study, I did write an article for their Newsletter. It is in this link: http://menc.us/. Click eMblem and then the button for the 2008 October issue. It is the last article of that issue called, what else but, “Carmencita.” Since I wrote it there, I hate to repeat myself here again. If you have time, please go take a look.
Carmen is not a Verismo opera. This is the Verismo connection the way I see it: Originally, Bizet was commissioned by Camille du Locle, the artistic director of the Opéra-Comique, to compose music for Carmen. It opened in the theater, “Opera- Comique,” and has since been classified as a “French opera comique”. However, in spite of its comic moments, “Carmen” tells the most tragic life story about Jose which leads to the tragic ending of Carmen’s life. Back then, there were the “noble” tragedies and the “lowly“comedies. “Carmen” did not fit in either of the categories though it could fill the bill of both. In effect, it helped to soften the barrier between the two. Additionally, it told the story about everyday people, not royalties, gods, or fairies. To use a recent politically cliché, it talked directly to people without going through the filter of the media. Coupled with the movement of realism in other arts and literature forms, I think it helped start in the 1890’s the realism in Italy called Verismo Operas. Examples are Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana (the first one of them) and L’Amico Frits, Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci, Ponchielli’s La Gioconda, etc. By the way, I am sure you already know Capital Opera is to produce Cavalleria Rusticana in March.
In studying Carmen, I also ran into many interesting tidbits. For example, in anticipation of the cigarette factory girls’ entrance, a bunch of guys sing “we will follow you, murmuring words of love to you. ….” The word “follow” in our score is “suivron” (*future* tense, first person, plural) but in some other libretti I saw it is “suivon” (*present* tense, first person plural). The difference probably came from a typo. However, either word works well. The difference in sound is so minute I think it probably won’t be heard even if it were performed by a French group to a French audience. Another word I found interesting is “vivat”. In Italian operas you hear them say viva this, viva that. In French, there is no such lively word, not in English either, for that matter. So, “vivat” is used here, borrowed from Latin. As a result, the final “t” is pronounced. However, one of the authorities, Professor Nico Castel, the long time language coach of the Metropolitan Opera, made a special note in his book to say that the “t” in “vivat” should be pronounced only in Massenet’s Werther (because it was a quote in Latin) but not in Bizet’s Carmen. Authorities, authorities! No wonder people say they are for birds.
Aren’t you for democracy? I am for democracy, totally, and am against dictatorship, totally. However, in performing arts, something “looks like” dictatorship is a necessity. A director wants to interpret the artwork a certain way. We actors, in a sense, are only his tools. So, I say, simply follow the direction. Don’t ask why and don’t give your own suggestions. Whenever there are more than one person, there are more than one opinion. If everybody wants his way, nothing can be done. Then, there are people who could not stop chitchat, claiming “first amendment right”, jokingly, of course. If everybody talks in a rehearsal, nothing can be done either. I have some observation and some discussion on this subject in one of the newsletters I mentioned above (http://menc.us/). It is in the 2008 May issue, articles “Rehearsal” and “Small Universe”. Eric also mentioned this in one of the earlier Blogs.
It is embarrassing that I only recently learned the word Verismo, as in Verismo operas. I learned that word while studying about Carmen so I could tell another group of friends about our production. As the result of the study, I did write an article for their Newsletter. It is in this link: http://menc.us/. Click eMblem and then the button for the 2008 October issue. It is the last article of that issue called, what else but, “Carmencita.” Since I wrote it there, I hate to repeat myself here again. If you have time, please go take a look.
Carmen is not a Verismo opera. This is the Verismo connection the way I see it: Originally, Bizet was commissioned by Camille du Locle, the artistic director of the Opéra-Comique, to compose music for Carmen. It opened in the theater, “Opera- Comique,” and has since been classified as a “French opera comique”. However, in spite of its comic moments, “Carmen” tells the most tragic life story about Jose which leads to the tragic ending of Carmen’s life. Back then, there were the “noble” tragedies and the “lowly“comedies. “Carmen” did not fit in either of the categories though it could fill the bill of both. In effect, it helped to soften the barrier between the two. Additionally, it told the story about everyday people, not royalties, gods, or fairies. To use a recent politically cliché, it talked directly to people without going through the filter of the media. Coupled with the movement of realism in other arts and literature forms, I think it helped start in the 1890’s the realism in Italy called Verismo Operas. Examples are Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana (the first one of them) and L’Amico Frits, Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci, Ponchielli’s La Gioconda, etc. By the way, I am sure you already know Capital Opera is to produce Cavalleria Rusticana in March.
In studying Carmen, I also ran into many interesting tidbits. For example, in anticipation of the cigarette factory girls’ entrance, a bunch of guys sing “we will follow you, murmuring words of love to you. ….” The word “follow” in our score is “suivron” (*future* tense, first person, plural) but in some other libretti I saw it is “suivon” (*present* tense, first person plural). The difference probably came from a typo. However, either word works well. The difference in sound is so minute I think it probably won’t be heard even if it were performed by a French group to a French audience. Another word I found interesting is “vivat”. In Italian operas you hear them say viva this, viva that. In French, there is no such lively word, not in English either, for that matter. So, “vivat” is used here, borrowed from Latin. As a result, the final “t” is pronounced. However, one of the authorities, Professor Nico Castel, the long time language coach of the Metropolitan Opera, made a special note in his book to say that the “t” in “vivat” should be pronounced only in Massenet’s Werther (because it was a quote in Latin) but not in Bizet’s Carmen. Authorities, authorities! No wonder people say they are for birds.
Aren’t you for democracy? I am for democracy, totally, and am against dictatorship, totally. However, in performing arts, something “looks like” dictatorship is a necessity. A director wants to interpret the artwork a certain way. We actors, in a sense, are only his tools. So, I say, simply follow the direction. Don’t ask why and don’t give your own suggestions. Whenever there are more than one person, there are more than one opinion. If everybody wants his way, nothing can be done. Then, there are people who could not stop chitchat, claiming “first amendment right”, jokingly, of course. If everybody talks in a rehearsal, nothing can be done either. I have some observation and some discussion on this subject in one of the newsletters I mentioned above (http://menc.us/). It is in the 2008 May issue, articles “Rehearsal” and “Small Universe”. Eric also mentioned this in one of the earlier Blogs.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Trying to chew gum and walk
From Eric Hale:
We had the first blocking rehearsal today. For those unfamiliar with the term, blocking is the actor’s movement around the stage. I don’t know the derivation. I suspect it comes from the old use of the word “block” as a mold, such as a hat block.
Basically, blocking directions are of the form “at this point in the script I need you here, then by this other point I need you there.” Thomas, as the director, is responsible for the blocking. Sarah, as the stage manager, is responsible for recording the blocking – all of it. Blocking can be an interactive process, as Thomas sees what works, tweaks what doesn’t. Sarah’s eraser gets quite a workout.
Although there are many exceptions, how you get from point A to point B is generally up to you. However, in opera, it’s can be very bad to go from point A to point B by passing in front of a principal.
Blocking has a lot of specialized vocabulary, and I’ll try to avoid using specialized terms here.
Because of the need to coordinate the movement with the music, blocking for an opera is different than blocking for a play without music. (Plays without music are often called straight plays.) An actor in a straight play can time his movement around his dialog. However, we often have to move while we are singing. That requires setting up your movement so that you can be sure you can see the conductor at all times – not the easiest trick on a crowed stage.
Today we started learning where we would be on the stage during specific points in the score. At least as importantly, we learned who we would be near during those points. In rehearsals to come, we’ll be working out our interactions with the characters near us. It is no longer acceptable to “plant and rant” during an opera. You need to appear engaged in the action.
All that will come. Today, we just had to learn how we were moving as we sang. Some people were trying to interact from the start. I wish I were so capable.I focused on just moving and singing, which kept me quite busy enough.
For me, this is one of the most demoralizing points in the process. Up until now, we had focused solely on the music, which used up most of my brain. Add unfamiliar movement, and much of what you think you know just falls apart.
This post has ended up being about blocking generally, but I have to mention one thing from today’s rehearsal. Wayne was at the rehearsal to conduct the music. About three hours in, when we are all getting punchy, Wayne brought the house down by singing the English translation of the Torreador song. Our Escamillo was not called, so Wayne sang to fill in. The translation in our score is a “singing translation”, not a literal one. Because it has to rhyme and to match a melody written for lyrics in French, the translation can be fairly absurd at times. Wayne threw himself into it like a coked up lounge singer. Funny, funny stuff.
Tomorrow, we finish blocking the opera and get to rehearse with the principals.
We had the first blocking rehearsal today. For those unfamiliar with the term, blocking is the actor’s movement around the stage. I don’t know the derivation. I suspect it comes from the old use of the word “block” as a mold, such as a hat block.
Basically, blocking directions are of the form “at this point in the script I need you here, then by this other point I need you there.” Thomas, as the director, is responsible for the blocking. Sarah, as the stage manager, is responsible for recording the blocking – all of it. Blocking can be an interactive process, as Thomas sees what works, tweaks what doesn’t. Sarah’s eraser gets quite a workout.
Although there are many exceptions, how you get from point A to point B is generally up to you. However, in opera, it’s can be very bad to go from point A to point B by passing in front of a principal.
Blocking has a lot of specialized vocabulary, and I’ll try to avoid using specialized terms here.
Because of the need to coordinate the movement with the music, blocking for an opera is different than blocking for a play without music. (Plays without music are often called straight plays.) An actor in a straight play can time his movement around his dialog. However, we often have to move while we are singing. That requires setting up your movement so that you can be sure you can see the conductor at all times – not the easiest trick on a crowed stage.
Today we started learning where we would be on the stage during specific points in the score. At least as importantly, we learned who we would be near during those points. In rehearsals to come, we’ll be working out our interactions with the characters near us. It is no longer acceptable to “plant and rant” during an opera. You need to appear engaged in the action.
All that will come. Today, we just had to learn how we were moving as we sang. Some people were trying to interact from the start. I wish I were so capable.I focused on just moving and singing, which kept me quite busy enough.
For me, this is one of the most demoralizing points in the process. Up until now, we had focused solely on the music, which used up most of my brain. Add unfamiliar movement, and much of what you think you know just falls apart.
This post has ended up being about blocking generally, but I have to mention one thing from today’s rehearsal. Wayne was at the rehearsal to conduct the music. About three hours in, when we are all getting punchy, Wayne brought the house down by singing the English translation of the Torreador song. Our Escamillo was not called, so Wayne sang to fill in. The translation in our score is a “singing translation”, not a literal one. Because it has to rhyme and to match a melody written for lyrics in French, the translation can be fairly absurd at times. Wayne threw himself into it like a coked up lounge singer. Funny, funny stuff.
Tomorrow, we finish blocking the opera and get to rehearse with the principals.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Mot juste
From François Birgand:
First of all, it is a privilege for me to be able to join the chorus, since the majority of the singers sing a lot better than I can do.
Several extremely important things have appeared to me about what singing really means, seeing non French speakers sing in French. I have more often than not viewed my voice as an instrument not so different than any other one, other that it is quite easy to carry! Words have appeared to be just frames onto which notes hold, or even sometimes just a pretext for music. In other words, to me the meaning of the words has always been of secondary importance to the music. Listening to the language that actually makes sense to me, for which I fully (or at least most of the time) understand the meaning and the subtleties, has been an eye opening experience to me. I have sung in French and in English before, but for some reason it never struck me as much as it does with Carmen. I have finally realized that singing is not just about the notes and the good pronunciation, it is about meaning, and I want to say it is foremost about the meaning of what you are saying. But the meaning does not go without good notes and good pronunciation...! All of a sudden, another entire and richer world appears: composers such as Bizet understand the text so well that they are, in most cases, able to accompany the meanings of the words with a music that expresses the same sentiments and feelings, only does it magnify them. In reality I realize that the discovery of the expression of feelings and sentiment in the music, the text, and the two together, is virtually endless in Carmen. I suppose that it is the case with most if not all operas or choir pieces. People write entire books on that and I believe I start to see why now. Carmen has thus given me the opportunity to understand that there is an entire, fascinating and subtle world in sung music, that I had for the most part totally over- or rather under-looked so far. This also tells me that the next time I sing in German, Italian, English, or any other language, I should at least understand what I am singing, and if possible go beyond that to discover the actual subtlety of the language itself and the intermingling of the music and the words.
One thing that I observe for myself trying to speak English is that we tend to do the same mistakes over and over when we pronounce foreign words, not necessarily because it is difficult to pronounce them (although that can be the case at the beginning), but because we primarily listen to ourselves rather than listening to the native speakers and how they pronounce words. For chorus singers, it is a rare event to have native speakers at hand when singing in a foreign language. But for people living abroad, we have native speakers talking to us all day, and yet we make the same pronunciation mistakes and are stuck with our accent...! I am convinced that it fades when we actually tart listening. Musicians normally have a great advantage because they can hear the difference and incorporate make changes. Fast improvements lie in our ability to fully and truly listen to the native speakers.
First of all, it is a privilege for me to be able to join the chorus, since the majority of the singers sing a lot better than I can do.
Several extremely important things have appeared to me about what singing really means, seeing non French speakers sing in French. I have more often than not viewed my voice as an instrument not so different than any other one, other that it is quite easy to carry! Words have appeared to be just frames onto which notes hold, or even sometimes just a pretext for music. In other words, to me the meaning of the words has always been of secondary importance to the music. Listening to the language that actually makes sense to me, for which I fully (or at least most of the time) understand the meaning and the subtleties, has been an eye opening experience to me. I have sung in French and in English before, but for some reason it never struck me as much as it does with Carmen. I have finally realized that singing is not just about the notes and the good pronunciation, it is about meaning, and I want to say it is foremost about the meaning of what you are saying. But the meaning does not go without good notes and good pronunciation...! All of a sudden, another entire and richer world appears: composers such as Bizet understand the text so well that they are, in most cases, able to accompany the meanings of the words with a music that expresses the same sentiments and feelings, only does it magnify them. In reality I realize that the discovery of the expression of feelings and sentiment in the music, the text, and the two together, is virtually endless in Carmen. I suppose that it is the case with most if not all operas or choir pieces. People write entire books on that and I believe I start to see why now. Carmen has thus given me the opportunity to understand that there is an entire, fascinating and subtle world in sung music, that I had for the most part totally over- or rather under-looked so far. This also tells me that the next time I sing in German, Italian, English, or any other language, I should at least understand what I am singing, and if possible go beyond that to discover the actual subtlety of the language itself and the intermingling of the music and the words.
One thing that I observe for myself trying to speak English is that we tend to do the same mistakes over and over when we pronounce foreign words, not necessarily because it is difficult to pronounce them (although that can be the case at the beginning), but because we primarily listen to ourselves rather than listening to the native speakers and how they pronounce words. For chorus singers, it is a rare event to have native speakers at hand when singing in a foreign language. But for people living abroad, we have native speakers talking to us all day, and yet we make the same pronunciation mistakes and are stuck with our accent...! I am convinced that it fades when we actually tart listening. Musicians normally have a great advantage because they can hear the difference and incorporate make changes. Fast improvements lie in our ability to fully and truly listen to the native speakers.
Je ne sais quoi
From Eric Hale:
As I mentioned in my last post, singing in French poses some special challenges for most of us in the chorus . That’s what I’d like to talk about today.
Before going too far, I should mention that François, one of our tenors, is a native French speaker. I’ve see him twitch on many occasions as the rest of us butcher his language. To him, I can only say that I’m really sorry.
When I was talking to Anna Bess, my wife, she asked if French was really that much more difficult than Italian. The short answer is “Yes.” As a concrete measure consider this: Coloni’s book Singer’s Italian is 149 pages, not counting the appendices. Grubb’s book Singing in French” is 221 pages, doesn’t have an appendix, and the pages are much larger.
I know there are people for whom French comes naturally. I’m just not one of them. There are three things I trip over. Oddly, two of them are things that I had to wrestle with as I was learning to speak standard English.
You see, I was raised with an accent that sounded like Jeff Foxworthy just smoked three packs of cigarettes after a four day bender. The kind of accent where “pen” and “pin” were pronounced the same, “I’m going to” sounded like “mona” and my name was errihKAYuhl. Anna Bess’ family is so Southern that her father took grits to Japan and even she can’t understand my relatives some of the time.
The first problem, of course, is the way words are spelled. However, I have no right to complain about this. As an English speaker, we commit far worse spelling sins - especially in 21st century America, where making up alternate spellings is a national passtime.
The second problem is that French uses sounds that just don’t exist in English. This is different than Italian, where the sounds exist in English and the challenge is to purify something you already know.
For example, the first phrase the chorus sings starts “Sur la place…” To my ear, that sounds like seer lah plah-suh – but it’s not. When François says it, I can hear that it’s not, though I can’t tell you why. Kevin coaches us on mechanics, things like “Shape your tongue like you’re saying ‘E’ and pucker your lips.” Those things help. However, after 4 weeks, I’m just getting to where I can really hear some of the differences.
These things seem subtle, but they are really not. That’s why listening to us is so hard for François. It’s like when English speakers hear Japanese struggling with Ls and Rs. To us, those sounds are very far apart. However, it’s really only a tiny difference in the position of the tongue that makes the difference between “lot” and “rot” or “lime” and “rhyme”. Confuse them too many times and you become incomprehensible.
The third problem is that the pronunciation of words change depending on the words to which they are adjacent. We also do this some in English: “the angel” becomes “thee angel”, while “the man” becomes “thuh man”. So, I have no right to complain. However, I do not have to learn English in 7 weeks. Fortunately, the rules in French are somewhat more orderly than in English, so there’s a chance.
As I said before, there’s much work to do.
As I mentioned in my last post, singing in French poses some special challenges for most of us in the chorus . That’s what I’d like to talk about today.
Before going too far, I should mention that François, one of our tenors, is a native French speaker. I’ve see him twitch on many occasions as the rest of us butcher his language. To him, I can only say that I’m really sorry.
When I was talking to Anna Bess, my wife, she asked if French was really that much more difficult than Italian. The short answer is “Yes.” As a concrete measure consider this: Coloni’s book Singer’s Italian is 149 pages, not counting the appendices. Grubb’s book Singing in French” is 221 pages, doesn’t have an appendix, and the pages are much larger.
I know there are people for whom French comes naturally. I’m just not one of them. There are three things I trip over. Oddly, two of them are things that I had to wrestle with as I was learning to speak standard English.
You see, I was raised with an accent that sounded like Jeff Foxworthy just smoked three packs of cigarettes after a four day bender. The kind of accent where “pen” and “pin” were pronounced the same, “I’m going to” sounded like “mona” and my name was errihKAYuhl. Anna Bess’ family is so Southern that her father took grits to Japan and even she can’t understand my relatives some of the time.
The first problem, of course, is the way words are spelled. However, I have no right to complain about this. As an English speaker, we commit far worse spelling sins - especially in 21st century America, where making up alternate spellings is a national passtime.
The second problem is that French uses sounds that just don’t exist in English. This is different than Italian, where the sounds exist in English and the challenge is to purify something you already know.
For example, the first phrase the chorus sings starts “Sur la place…” To my ear, that sounds like seer lah plah-suh – but it’s not. When François says it, I can hear that it’s not, though I can’t tell you why. Kevin coaches us on mechanics, things like “Shape your tongue like you’re saying ‘E’ and pucker your lips.” Those things help. However, after 4 weeks, I’m just getting to where I can really hear some of the differences.
These things seem subtle, but they are really not. That’s why listening to us is so hard for François. It’s like when English speakers hear Japanese struggling with Ls and Rs. To us, those sounds are very far apart. However, it’s really only a tiny difference in the position of the tongue that makes the difference between “lot” and “rot” or “lime” and “rhyme”. Confuse them too many times and you become incomprehensible.
The third problem is that the pronunciation of words change depending on the words to which they are adjacent. We also do this some in English: “the angel” becomes “thee angel”, while “the man” becomes “thuh man”. So, I have no right to complain. However, I do not have to learn English in 7 weeks. Fortunately, the rules in French are somewhat more orderly than in English, so there’s a chance.
As I said before, there’s much work to do.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Dixieland Opera
From Eric Hale:
When I wrote my earlier post, I had forgotten about a chorus rehearsal. So, at tonight’s rehearsal, we got to sing without blocking one more time.
Kevin Badanes is our chorus master. In addition to his other qualifications, Kevin is very funny. In his rehearsals, we laugh a lot. I can’t reproduce Kevin’s impeccable comic timing in a post, but one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard was in the first rehearsal when he said “I know what you’re thinking - 400 pages…but at least it’s in French.” If you understand the joys of being an American who’s trying to sing in French, that’s really funny. If not, maybe I can write about it in another post.
Meredith College provides rooms for rehearsal, saving us from many of the indignities of using found space. (For those that don’t know the term “found space” it just means a room you are able to get without paying for it.) However, the circumstances of tonight’s rehearsal were exceptional. Imagine an entire opera chorus packed into a 15’x15’ cinderblock room. In the next room, imagine a Dixieland band. Really. There’s nothing I can say that will do it justice.
We were only in that room an hour, after which we moved to a bigger room, one with tiny desks. No Dixieland band this time.
Most of the chorus members are either working or full time students. So, when rehearsal starts at 7:00, we’re already tired. However, the music soon perks us up. When we got to the Habanera, which we were rehearsing without Carmen, Kevin said “Indulge yourselves.” Half the room went nuts. Kate, our very talented accompanist, started playing all these flourishes on the piano. A lot of the women, and several of the men, started singing Carmen’s part. The rest of us enjoyed the show until it was time for our entrance. It was fun.
We needed the fun moments, because we worked hard. This rehearsal was aimed at strengthening the places we are weak. So, we moved with a lot of speed through the score. That, in itself, is confusing. You have to jump into a section of music without the usual lead in, and while the last section you worked on is still echoing in your brain. Even worse, it is the nature of the rehearsal that you spend little time on the parts you know and lots of time on the parts you don’t. Oh, and did I mention that we’re singing in French? By the end, I had guacamole for brains, but you could hear the improvement in the chorus.
Still, I have work to do. I have a lot of work to do. There are two days before the next rehearsal.
When I wrote my earlier post, I had forgotten about a chorus rehearsal. So, at tonight’s rehearsal, we got to sing without blocking one more time.
Kevin Badanes is our chorus master. In addition to his other qualifications, Kevin is very funny. In his rehearsals, we laugh a lot. I can’t reproduce Kevin’s impeccable comic timing in a post, but one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard was in the first rehearsal when he said “I know what you’re thinking - 400 pages…but at least it’s in French.” If you understand the joys of being an American who’s trying to sing in French, that’s really funny. If not, maybe I can write about it in another post.
Meredith College provides rooms for rehearsal, saving us from many of the indignities of using found space. (For those that don’t know the term “found space” it just means a room you are able to get without paying for it.) However, the circumstances of tonight’s rehearsal were exceptional. Imagine an entire opera chorus packed into a 15’x15’ cinderblock room. In the next room, imagine a Dixieland band. Really. There’s nothing I can say that will do it justice.
We were only in that room an hour, after which we moved to a bigger room, one with tiny desks. No Dixieland band this time.
Most of the chorus members are either working or full time students. So, when rehearsal starts at 7:00, we’re already tired. However, the music soon perks us up. When we got to the Habanera, which we were rehearsing without Carmen, Kevin said “Indulge yourselves.” Half the room went nuts. Kate, our very talented accompanist, started playing all these flourishes on the piano. A lot of the women, and several of the men, started singing Carmen’s part. The rest of us enjoyed the show until it was time for our entrance. It was fun.
We needed the fun moments, because we worked hard. This rehearsal was aimed at strengthening the places we are weak. So, we moved with a lot of speed through the score. That, in itself, is confusing. You have to jump into a section of music without the usual lead in, and while the last section you worked on is still echoing in your brain. Even worse, it is the nature of the rehearsal that you spend little time on the parts you know and lots of time on the parts you don’t. Oh, and did I mention that we’re singing in French? By the end, I had guacamole for brains, but you could hear the improvement in the chorus.
Still, I have work to do. I have a lot of work to do. There are two days before the next rehearsal.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Thoughts about Sarah’s post
From Eric Hale:
Being the stage manager is a hard job. More than anything else, it reminds me of being the parent of a teenager. You have to be the bad guy who tells a hungry actor he can’t eat in costume, or yell at a group to "GET ON STAGE!" because we’re 15 seconds away from the audience staring at nothing. At the same time, you're the one everybody comes to when there’s a problem. It can be a thankless job, but it’s so essential. I’m glad she’s there to do it.
I’d also like to take a moment to mention the running crew. Most people involved with the show get some kind of acknowledgement – The front of house staff and ushers are the first people you see. The conductor's bow opens the show and the director's bow closes it. The orchestra gets its bow. Beautiful costumes and sets get mentioned in reviews. However, it’s the job of the running crew to be invisible and to make the show work. I cannot say thank you enough to those who work in the dark so that we can stand in the light.
Finally, about the comment Sarah mentioned: I repeated something I overheard years ago at a cast party. Someone was talking to the stage manager and said “Working with actors is like herding cats, isn’t it?” After removing the expletives, I can paraphrase the response as “Forget the cats. It’s like herding cockroaches.”
And, yes, I was an actor in the show.
Being the stage manager is a hard job. More than anything else, it reminds me of being the parent of a teenager. You have to be the bad guy who tells a hungry actor he can’t eat in costume, or yell at a group to "GET ON STAGE!" because we’re 15 seconds away from the audience staring at nothing. At the same time, you're the one everybody comes to when there’s a problem. It can be a thankless job, but it’s so essential. I’m glad she’s there to do it.
I’d also like to take a moment to mention the running crew. Most people involved with the show get some kind of acknowledgement – The front of house staff and ushers are the first people you see. The conductor's bow opens the show and the director's bow closes it. The orchestra gets its bow. Beautiful costumes and sets get mentioned in reviews. However, it’s the job of the running crew to be invisible and to make the show work. I cannot say thank you enough to those who work in the dark so that we can stand in the light.
Finally, about the comment Sarah mentioned: I repeated something I overheard years ago at a cast party. Someone was talking to the stage manager and said “Working with actors is like herding cats, isn’t it?” After removing the expletives, I can paraphrase the response as “Forget the cats. It’s like herding cockroaches.”
And, yes, I was an actor in the show.
And it begins...
From Sarah Stanton:
Eric is right. Last night's sing through went well. I hope the cast enjoyed the pace, because it's going to be insane for the next few weeks.
My name is Sarah Stanton. I'm the Stage Manager (SM, for these purposes). Carmen is my 11th show with CapOpera (on and off-stage). When you look at a production's program, you see titles you recognize: Director, Conductor,Costumer, etc. Stage Managing is one of the "weird jobs." Most people don't know what exactly it means, or why on earth anyone would want to have an SM. Consider yourselves lucky, because you're about to get a glimpse.
During the show, my job will boil down to staying on headset and barking cues to the lighting tech and running crew, orchestrating scenery changes, making sure the cast is ready to go onstage when its time, keep track of God-knows-how-many props, helping with quick costume changes as necessary,and making sure that the audience has no clue that any of this is going on.
Great, so that explains the two performances. Until then I have a different set of requirements. I'm the liason between artistics (Director, Conductor, etc) and the cast, sending mass-emails and answering questions. I attend and set up for all rehearsals (the cast is only called for certain days, that lucky bunch) and take notes. In 10 days, I will have the entire opera blocking in my score-not just for one character, but for all of them. I will make sure that each rehearsal starts, breaks, and ends on schedule. I'm sure the cast will get tired of my barking calls at them if they aren't already (2 MINUTE WARNING!, PLACES!, and the dreaded PLACES MEANS PLACES: START MOVING!!!!) I also have to recruit a running crew (very hard to do for a non-profit company).
Last night was the first official meeting with Director-Thomas Mauney, Lighting Designer-Alex Bright, Techical Director-Lindsay Cramond, and Scene Artist (not sure exactly what the talented Jessica Hyatt's title is...it's fluid at this point). A good hour or so was spent looking at sketches and talking logistics. We have a working idea of what the set will look like, and how many flats it will take to put it together. We haven't gotten much further than that. Concept was discussed and that group will be in constant contact so that we can start construction this Saturday. Once I have a props list, I'll need to see what we can borrow from Meredith College's stock, and have that ready to use for rehearsals.
Sidenote: 2:50pm It's barely into Day 2 and I've gotten 14 emails so far.
As we were cleaning up after rehearsal last night, this wicked big cockroach ran onstage. It only took 2 stomps to squish, but it reminded me of a comment Eric made this week. An omen, maybe?
Tonight is the first staging rehearsal. Thomas has 5h 45m to stage Act I (the first 109 pages) before the Run/Work 8:45pm Wednesday. That on its own explains why I'm so particular about making sure rehearsals aren't delayed. I've seen what happens when time gets away from a director and a cast. It isn't pretty for anyone involved. So get your pencils ready!
Eric is right. Last night's sing through went well. I hope the cast enjoyed the pace, because it's going to be insane for the next few weeks.
My name is Sarah Stanton. I'm the Stage Manager (SM, for these purposes). Carmen is my 11th show with CapOpera (on and off-stage). When you look at a production's program, you see titles you recognize: Director, Conductor,Costumer, etc. Stage Managing is one of the "weird jobs." Most people don't know what exactly it means, or why on earth anyone would want to have an SM. Consider yourselves lucky, because you're about to get a glimpse.
During the show, my job will boil down to staying on headset and barking cues to the lighting tech and running crew, orchestrating scenery changes, making sure the cast is ready to go onstage when its time, keep track of God-knows-how-many props, helping with quick costume changes as necessary,and making sure that the audience has no clue that any of this is going on.
Great, so that explains the two performances. Until then I have a different set of requirements. I'm the liason between artistics (Director, Conductor, etc) and the cast, sending mass-emails and answering questions. I attend and set up for all rehearsals (the cast is only called for certain days, that lucky bunch) and take notes. In 10 days, I will have the entire opera blocking in my score-not just for one character, but for all of them. I will make sure that each rehearsal starts, breaks, and ends on schedule. I'm sure the cast will get tired of my barking calls at them if they aren't already (2 MINUTE WARNING!, PLACES!, and the dreaded PLACES MEANS PLACES: START MOVING!!!!) I also have to recruit a running crew (very hard to do for a non-profit company).
Last night was the first official meeting with Director-Thomas Mauney, Lighting Designer-Alex Bright, Techical Director-Lindsay Cramond, and Scene Artist (not sure exactly what the talented Jessica Hyatt's title is...it's fluid at this point). A good hour or so was spent looking at sketches and talking logistics. We have a working idea of what the set will look like, and how many flats it will take to put it together. We haven't gotten much further than that. Concept was discussed and that group will be in constant contact so that we can start construction this Saturday. Once I have a props list, I'll need to see what we can borrow from Meredith College's stock, and have that ready to use for rehearsals.
Sidenote: 2:50pm It's barely into Day 2 and I've gotten 14 emails so far.
As we were cleaning up after rehearsal last night, this wicked big cockroach ran onstage. It only took 2 stomps to squish, but it reminded me of a comment Eric made this week. An omen, maybe?
Tonight is the first staging rehearsal. Thomas has 5h 45m to stage Act I (the first 109 pages) before the Run/Work 8:45pm Wednesday. That on its own explains why I'm so particular about making sure rehearsals aren't delayed. I've seen what happens when time gets away from a director and a cast. It isn't pretty for anyone involved. So get your pencils ready!
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