Just Working Through Things

ETA: I didn't actually manage to cross post this entry when I wrote it this past weekend. Better late than never?

Tomorrow is the final performance of Triumph of Love. I haven't really processed that yet.

For someone who has had many of the same friends since 1st grade, the fleeting nature of theatre is sometimes really scary. In less than 24 hours, Triumph will be a collection of memories.

Part of me is looking forward to the time I'll have to myself. By working standard shop hours (10-6 Monday through Saturday) I'll have a chance to see more theatre in the community. I haven't seen anything other than my own show in either May or April, so I'm looking forward to remedying that.

My body is also tired. My back is sore from doing the hand laundry in an unfortunately low and deep sink. My head is tired of my ClearCom headset and the associated brain squeezing. And I have bruises in the shape of Hubert's heels on my knee thanks to the quickchange.

But.

This cast is amazing. The show is fantastic fun both to watch and to work. I have lots of quick and fast changes for lots of people (six out of seven cast members have at least one quick or fast change). I get to hang out in the traps and hand props up to an actor. I get to release spring-loaded poppies. I get to be regaled with stories from my actors' youths. And I get to watch this amazing show night after night.

I'm not ready to say goodbye!

My Life: Awesome

Working late in the shop for Triumph. It's a... sizable show. We're not at the point that we're scheduling 16 hour days yet, but the costummiere and I are goofing around and sewing things well into the night.

I have nearly, as predicted on Tuesday, built a hat. I'm tacking the lining in, and have about another hour of work. And then it will be a hat! Hooray! Hat!

Buuuuuut the reason I started this entry (while in the shop, rocking out to Pandora's Owl City channel) was to share a moment of awesome.

James (a former intern, now employee) just brought us eggplant parmesan. That he'd made from scratch. And just pulled out of the oven. Because he could.

He knew we were working late, so he brought us steaming plates of nommy nommy awesome.

How cool is that?

Another Opening, Another Show!

Opening night was AMAZING.

Our afternoon (final preview) audience was brilliant, so I was a bit afraid that the evening wouldn't be as strong. But they were OUTSTANDING. There were two sustained laughs of more than 12 seconds (usually, a sustained, rolling laugh will last for 5 or 7 seconds)! And they were right there with the characters, getting the wit, not just laughing at the slapstick. The actors fed off that energy, so it was a wonderful show all around.

I'll actually be sad to leave these guys, as much as I'm looking forward to Triumph.

Gaaaaa! I love my job and I love my life!

/broken record

Let's Do This Thing

Lots of things in my head tonight. I saw a really good show at Round House with a bunch of other interns-- a modern-ish adaptation of Dorian Grey. Among other things, they had a BEAUTIFUL double turntable that was incredibly smooth. and they used it SO WELL. There were two moments in particular that earned seat-flailing from me and vocal appreciation from the audience. Just turntable movements, mind you! And the car ride back was filled with the bubbly sort of "Oh, and that moment was AWESOME!" "Yeah, but I'm not sure how I feel about this choice." "Oh, it worked for me once this one thing happened; then it clicked" conversation that I love. There's one point in the show where Dorian says something to the effect of "art doesn't make people do things; it merely reflects our potential for committing evil acts" only he says it with more grace and passion. The line falls flat, as it should, because not one character or audience member (and at that point, not even Dorian) believes it, given the events of the play. But as I suspect it was intended to do, the line made me think about a show's responsibility to its audience as well as an audience's responsibility to a show. Nothing new or profound on either front, but mah brainz are spinnin'. Oh theatre, I love you.

And then I came back and drank wine with one of the artistic directors and heard her stories of touring shows in Germany before the wall came down. Oh theatre, I love you.

Before all this happened, I got to walk through the Night Must Fall set for the first time. My first walk through is one of those silly magical moments that always makes me giddy and eager for techs to start. Suddenly, everything theoretical is real. There's a real window! And look at the texture on the floor! And oh, wow, here's how that wonky entrance will work! Sure, the set's not done, costumes aren't finished, and I haven't seen a hint of lights or sound. But set walk through means we might just have a show.

(Say it with me now.) Oh theatre, I love you.