Performance Diary: 'Follies,' Part 2

by Kirk Woodward

[In his account of the work on the Gas Lamp Players’ production of Stephen Sondheim and James Goldman’s Follies, Kirk picks up where he left off in Part 1 of his “Performance Diary”: in the middle of the rehearsal period.  Kirk will take us through the final dress rehearsal to opening night and the short performance run.

[If you haven’t read Part 1, posted on 15 December, I suggest readers go back and pick that up before reading Part 2, below.  Kirk has been presenting a day-by-day chronicle of the progress of the show and without his commentary from the beginning, you will have missed the build-up.]

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 11 – There are some rehearsals you just have to have, whether you want to or not. What I am going to write here should not be taken in the slightest as a criticism of the creative team of our Follies production. I think they’re splendid and doing a fine job. But a production has to work with what it has – including its schedule.

Tonight was a “stumble-through” of Act 1, which is basically a series of vignettes at a party, meaning that its focus frequently changes, while movements occur around the main events that seem to be random (they are not). It was the first time we’d tried to play the act from beginning to end.

The central story, about four characters, is played by eight actors, and that fact in itself demonstrates the complexities of the script (the additional four actors are younger versions of the “present day” characters). 

I have written before in this blog about my conviction that any part of the rehearsal process should have a single focus [see, for example, “Performance Diary, Part 2,” 28 August 2024: “I still feel that a director should define for the cast a single, definite purpose for each rehearsal, or for each run through . . . .”] – in particular, when something new like, say, stage lighting is introduced at a particular rehearsal, that should be the focus, and the actors should be told to concentrate on that and not worry much about acting (which nevertheless will happen, usually effectively, because the pressure is off).

[In “A Directing Experience, Part 1” (13 October 2023), in which Kirk explains this principle as applied by the director he was assisting: “One important directing technique, which I have come to strongly endorse, is that he tried to give goals for each rehearsal. This communication practice frees actors to concentrate on a few specific things, and in the process, everything else is likely to improve as well.”  ~Rick]

Tonight, though, was full of new items, and the result was predictable. Among tonight’s major “firsts” were:

We had a pianist for the first time – previously we had been moving and singing to recordings of previous productions. As far as I could tell, the pianist, who I have the impression will eventually be quite good, was unfamiliar with the score, which, being a Sondheim score, has plenty of complexities. He made his way through the score, but often what he played was unrecognizable.

We also had a musical director present for the first time, but since none of us had worked with him before, he had no idea of what the actors might want in the way of accompaniment, and he spent most of his time either indicating a tempo that might or might not work with the song, or turning pages.

We were in a new space – the cafeteria of the high school. The stage was marked out by tape on the floor, so we could tell how small the playing area is, but being in a big room gave the feeling of spaciousness. Next week the small size of the performance space will be a shock, even if intellectually we know the dimensions of the set.

The act was being put together for the second time, so many were unsure of their cues for entrances and exits (including me). Not everyone was completely “off book” with their lines entirely memorized (I was, but I have very few lines), and, again, the singers in particular were suddenly singing against musical backgrounds that were entirely new to them.

So we worked our way through the act, and it was necessary and useful to see how all the separately rehearsed pieces fit together, but there was a lot of confusion and little sense of performance – how could there be? As an example, Janet Aldrich, a powerhouse singer, made a huge impression singing “I’m Still Here,” but she had to call for lyrics twice and was being coached on movement while she sang, a reflection of how muddled things were.

At this point it doesn’t seem to me that the central story of the musical is clearly told – not that the authors have helped much with that problem. A friend told me that she had talked to a film director recently who said, “I tell the actors, you can do this or you can do that, but you have to do this, because if you don’t, the story doesn’t get across.”

That, it seems to me, is the crux of the matter – a director is always trying to answer the question, “How can the story best be told?” I don’t doubt that Kristy and Susan are aware of this.

And it’s foolish to judge a production based on rehearsals. We have almost two weeks until opening, nine full rehearsals, and as my friend also pointed out, we don’t have any of the “wizardry” in place yet – lights, amplification, orchestra, costumes, and so on.

At this point there’s also no coherent sense of style about the production, but the same point applies – there’s a long way to go, and we have good people in charge of the process. So, onward! Act II tomorrow night!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 12 – Act II is less complicated than Act I as far as staging goes. Basically, after a brief argument among the leading couples, a kind of “Follies” called “Loveland” begins, and a series of brilliant songs takes ironic looks at the couples’ troubles.

I wrote last night about difficulties in telling the story of the show, but tonight the principals seemed to have that under control, so that’s good. We worked our way through the act; two of the male principals, for various reasons, are still using their scripts, but I doubt that anyone is worried about either of them. The teen company of dancers and actors is terrific, and so were several of the numbers tonight.

We eight men did our dance to baffled applause. Deshja Driggs, an extraordinarily talented performer who sings the lead in the song, eyed the solid floor of the cafeteria warily as she considered how safe our lifting her into the air could possibly be (I’m not one of the lifters, thank heaven), but her life was spared, at least for tonight.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 13 – I arrived a little early (always a good idea – maybe even an imperative) while some scene work was going on, and Susan, the director, came over and told me that her husband, who has been playing the second male lead, has got a role in another major show.

He’ll be “swing,” a form of understudy, for a production that starts rehearsals next Tuesday. Obviously he can’t be in our show, and Susan and Kristy were interviewing a replacement when I arrived. Susan asked me not to tell anyone else, and I said, “Tell them what?”

I was complimented twice tonight on my opening speech. Of course that was before rehearsal; I hope they feel the same about it now.

When our rehearsal began, Kristy fine-tuned parts of the opening scene, and it’s now clearer and more fun. She really is a very good director. Then the cast separated for detailed work on three smaller scenes, and finally we eight male “dancers” worked out the glitches in our number until I thought my feet would fall off, especially my right one.

A note to directors: actors are not pleased if a director, having looked elsewhere, tells them that they ought to do something they just did. Much better to ask “Did you . . ." or “Were you able to . . .? I couldn’t see.”

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15 – In our performance space (the Glen Ridge, NJ Women’s Club) for the first time as a cast. It’s a lovely auditorium; the stage is definitely smaller than one would imagine (I think that was true for all of us), and tonight’s rehearsal was basically dedicated to adjusting our movements to the new conditions.

The set is basically in place. There are three stage curtains at the back of the stage (“upstage”), each gathered together in the middle so the back of the wall – a theater wall, appropriate for the show! – is visible. There’s a three-level staircase, not walled in but “skeletal,” a smaller platform on the other side of the stage, and that’s it. Properly lit (we had a few stage lights already), it’s lovely.

We needed to make many adjustments to the staging in the new space, there were basically four people making the changes (two directors, the choreographer, and the musical director), and both time and patience ran short as the evening went on. (Talent is important, but patience is one of the greatest theatrical virtues.)

Our dance comes toward the end of the show, and therefore of the rehearsal as well. There were questions about its ending, lots of conversation, no decision yet . . . .

That’s when I left, because my right foot, never sturdy because of two falls on ice over the years, pretty much gave way when I twice stepped clumsily on stairs. I was limping, it’s really sore, and I need to do my best to get it in shape for the rehearsal tomorrow night.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 15 – Although I hadn’t broadcast my hurt foot, I hadn’t kept it a secret either, and when I arrived early for rehearsal tonight Susan was solicitous, asking if I wanted to stay in the number (I did) or if I’d rather get out (I wouldn’t), although she said it would be a loss because I’m so adorable in the dance, which I’m afraid means . . . well, you can figure it out.

The actor replacing Tony in the role of Buddy was working with Kristy, Susan, and the pianist when I arrived. He looks and sounds great but doesn’t read music, so I know what he’ll be doing this weekend, or at least I expect so – listening to performances of the show over and over.

We eight male “dancers” got together to find that Emily didn’t plan to work with us, which caused some grumbling, since the very end of the routine hadn’t been staged. However, we did get her for about 20 minutes; she didn’t have anything planned but by the time she went in to work with the new Buddy there was an ending in place.

I made it clear at the start of our work that my foot was in bad shape, but I was able to do the whole rehearsal, although I didn’t push it. Our next rehearsal will be Monday night in the performance space; it’ll be a technical rehearsal, settling light cues, microphones and sound cues, costumes, and so on, and considering the size and shape of the show it’s likely to be a long and grueling evening. We shall see.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16 – Not a rehearsal, but a performance of the musical “Singin’ in the Rain Jr.” by Gas Lamp’s junior high school cast. (The original movie was released in 1952, the adaptation for the stage first opened in London in 1983.) It was quite impressive – close to 90 children, every one aware of what they had to do, and several exceptional voices. A good omen, I hope!

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18 – All right, class, write one hundred times, “I will not judge the show by a rehearsal.” Tonight was a technical rehearsal and those can be expected to be rough. Lights, sound, a full set, costumes . . . all new. I had managed to pull together a full tuxedo, which I’ll wear through the whole show.

The night was extremely ragged, and when we had to stop at 10 PM we weren’t quite finished with the first act. That in itself isn’t a problem; the second act, which we’ll tackle in the same way tomorrow night, is shorter and less fragmented.

My foot behaved itself, and Susan told me I was “a breath of fresh air” because “you’re so confident.” She may say the same thing to everyone for all I know, but many if not all actors thrive on praise. The music is still under-rehearsed, with some not at all helpful tempos. There was no way to evaluate the acting, which has little chance in a technical rehearsal.

There was a nice feeling of camaraderie among the cast, I thought. People seem to be having fun for the most part. “It’s such a big show,” Susan said tonight.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 19 – I told you they were smart! We left rehearsal last night planning for a 6:30 arrival time tonight for rehearsal. Today we got an email giving specific times for groups of people between 6:30 and 7:30, with the rest of the cast arriving at 7:30.

Deduction: as I wrote yesterday, the music still needs to be settled down, and the orchestra (14 altogether!) will be there tonight, so the first rehearsal hour will be spent getting the singing and the accompaniment together. Once again, the creative team is looking at what’s most important to accomplish, and putting that first. Good for them!

I was wrong, or at least I think I was. When I arrived there were a few musicians tootling (actually only half the orchestra, the students; the rest arrive tomorrow night), actors hanging around, not much sign that anything important was happening.

Eventually we got started, picking up where we left off last night. Basically the two nights went the same: with numerous stops to set or fix things, a few actors holding scripts (including our Buddy, who of course is new) or unsure of lines . . . I kept thinking of the theatrical proverb “No matter how long you rehearse, you always need two more weeks.”

In particular I’m not sure about the musical part of the show. Some of the tempos strike me as off, usually too slow; there are clunker notes, and for several songs in this particular show, the orchestra needs to accompany the singer as they sing, not lead them – no matter how difficult this may be. It can be done, but so far, in our production, it only happens sporadically.

I added to the fun by stepping badly again in the same spot I did the other night, a setback to my ability to move. Susan was solicitous, had me put my foot up, gave me some Advil, and I was able to dance in our number, probably making no more than five major mistakes.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 20 – The first of two full run-throughs in costume, with orchestra (complete and playing together for the first time), lights, sound, and no stops – except during “Who’s That Woman,” the most complex number in the show, where the orchestra lost track of the sudden tempo shifts.

I thought the evening as a whole did what it needed to do. Tomorrow night the transitions between scenes should be tighter, Buddy should be more secure on his song lyrics, and the cast’s main focus should be able to be on the show rather than on the technical elements.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21 – Final dress rehearsal, better than yesterday, the orchestra much improved. The run through wasn’t perfect, but the glitches were either song lyrics or the occasional transition. I also understand that ticket sales are good so far. I wasn’t good, particularly in the dance, but it wasn’t entirely my fault, I beefed to Emily about the spacing at the start of our number, and she said she’ll work with the dance tomorrow at 7.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 22, OPENING NIGHT! – I was irritated about how I was handling the short scenes where I have lines. My daughter Heather said something I agree with: she said that a monolog is easier to handle on stage than a short scene with only a line or two in it, because a monolog has a context, while a short scene can seem to pop up out of nowhere, and in Follies that’s the way they seem to me.

So I rewrote my cheat sheet of cues and lines to clarify the sequences, and spent time reviewing it, and that helped. On to the opening performance! The house was full, maybe a hundred or so people. The orchestra regressed a bit from last night, I thought; I suppose musicians get nervous like anyone else.

The audience was enthusiastic and the show can be declared a success. The people I know who saw it felt that the story was clear, and they were impressed with various things including the general talent level, the scale of the production, and of course the score of the show.

Several people I know felt that the book of the musical was problematic. I agree – it’s really an avant-garde musical masquerading as a typical Broadway show, and it seems determined to make the audience’s experience a difficult one.

My choreographer friend Colleen liked the choreography; the general feeling seems to be that the problems with the production were largely technical (some sound glitches) and orchestral.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 23 – A two show day, one at 2 PM and one at 8 PM. Feeling that my scenes were finally under control, I spent time on two parts of the dance number that I never seemed to get right, and ended up fairly confident about them.

The afternoon show, the matinee, was splendid, with the orchestra far more together again and the performances filled with an energy that had not been there before.

Our dance, I am happy to report, was quite good, and I basically did well. A friend said to me last night, “You don’t have to worry about how the men look anyway; Deshja is so good that no one’s paying any attention to you anyway.” She really is wonderful in her role; all the principal actors are excellent, and the singing is on a high level throughout the show.

There was one incident in our dance number: one of the dancers dropped his cane, stooped to retrieve it, and missed the second “lift” of the number, when Deshja is carried from the front to the rear of the stage. However, another member of the group, seeing the problem, immediately stepped in and helped carry her, so the number proceeded safely.

The evening show wasn’t as good, for two reasons that I can identify: everyone was tired (two big shows in a day is a lot), and we probably tried to repeat the good points of the afternoon show. Trying to recreate what happened last time almost never works. The audience was pleasant but not boisterous. However, I think they still got a good show.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 24 – Another big crowd for our final performance of Follies, a performance that may not have matched the spirit of yesterday’s matinee but was nevertheless fine, and our dance number finally worked the way we wanted it to.

I was so tired that I actually felt myself momentarily fall asleep at one moment in the first act while I was sitting backstage. As a result I didn’t go to the cast party that followed a brief “strike” where everything was put away; wherever I tried to help, someone beat me to it, so I finally just went home.

A few observations:

This diary illustrates something that beginning directors need to know: directing a play is not the same activity as directing a musical. A play is an artistic activity of which you are the leader. A musical is less like a play than a military operation, with intensive strategic planning, a staff, orders, placement of troops, discipline, and so on. Musicals take extensive planning. Someone must do it.

In this case the creative staff (I’m told they called themselves the “Dream Team,” and they’ve worked together on several shows) simply are first rate. They seemed to work together seamlessly, they at least visibly stay calm, and they know their stuff.

The football coach Lou Holtz (b. 1937) used to tell his teams to expect at least three times in a season when things would look bad for them. They shouldn’t be alarmed, he said; these things happen.

This production of Follies was a succession of difficulties and successes. This, it seems to me, is true of theater in general, and in life too, I suppose. Patience, as I said above, is an important theatrical virtue.

Theater has the advantage of aiming for a specific goal: the production will open on this date, regardless of how rehearsals are going. If the date has to be changed, it’s still a date, and if the production has to fold without opening, well, at least it was aiming for a date until it didn’t have one.

So in theater, which is more important, what the show is like when it opens, or how it gets to that point? There are arguments for both “process” and “product,” and they don’t necessarily conflict with each other.

Old-timers – I mean through around the nineteenth century – might have firmly said, “Theater is about what the audience gets, and that’s that.” On the other hand, many directors today, including me, would say that the nature of the rehearsal process is crucial to the success of a play. (A few directors don’t even aim to present their productions, only to work on the material. To each their own, but I don’t feel that way.)

An example of process: as I reported, as far as I know we plunged right into staging numbers at the beginning of rehearsals. Looking back, I think it would have been valuable to have had a sit-down readthrough of the show, maybe just talking through the songs, so the director could frame how the story was to be told, suggest some atmosphere, talk about the theme of the show and how it would affect the staging, and so on.

Like any work of art, a production of a musical is really a projection of the imagination, and early group work would help to have the cast sensing and feeling the same things.

On the other hand, most of my evaluations of how things were going turned out to be wrong, so maybe the lesson is that people in a show are poor judges of how things are going – or at least that I am.

The creative team demonstrated that they could be trusted. I will miss being around that skilled, stimulating group of people. On the other hand, I wouldn’t be surprised if I weren’t the only person to be inspired by their highly professional work ethic to do a little better myself next time I’m working on a show. I hope so.

[Just a reminder for readers who are just finding Rick On Theater and have enjoyed Kirk’s account if his work in this production: Kirk has written two previous pieces based on his journal entries about working in theater, “Performance Diary, Part 1” (25 August 2024) and “Performance Diary, Part 2” (28 August 2024).  I recommend giving them a read.]

Performance Diary: 'Follies,' Part 1

by Kirk Woodward 

[In a continuation of his August posts on Rick On Theater, “Performance Diary, Part 1” (25 August 2024) and “Performance Diary, Part 2” (28 August 2024), Kirk Woodward, a prolific contributor to this blog (133 posts and counting), returns with a two-part contribution on his participation as a cast member of Stephen Sondheim and James Goldman’s Follies. This production was mounted by the Gas Lamp Players of Glen Ridge, New Jersey, a non-profit community theater founded in 2007.

[Follies ran on Broadway from 1971 to 1972, after which there were many regional and international premières and revivals.  Because the musical’s book was problematic, there were many efforts to revise it for several of the post-Broadway stagings.  Even though the score was praised and even beloved, Sondheim wrote new numbers and revised some of the original ones. 

[The script that Gas Lamp used, rented from Music Theatre International, the rights-holder, was the one developed for the London première, which ran 21 July 1987-4 February 1989 (644 performances) at the Shaftesbury Theatre in the West End, London’s theater district.

[Goldman rewrote his Broadway libretto extensively for producer Cameron Mackintosh (b. 1946), and Sondheim also wrote some new numbers and rewrote some others.  The London production was directed by Mike Ockrent (1946-99) and choreographed by Bob Avian (1937-2021).

[According to Wikipedia, “‘. . . The (London) Times described the evening as “a wonderful idea for a show which has failed to grow into a story.”’  The Times critic Irving Wardle stated ‘It is not much of a story, and whatever possibilities it may have had in theory are scuppered by James Goldman’s book . . . a blend of lifeless small-talk, bitching and dreadful gags.’” (‘Scupper’ is a mostly British synonym for ‘thwart,’ ‘destroy,’ or ‘scuttle.’)

[Glen Ridge, a bedroom community of New York City, is in New Jersey’s Essex County, about 60 miles and an hour-and-a-quarter drive or train ride—west of the city.  From my experience and observation, Essex County has an exceptional number of performance venues and theater companies, both professional and community-oriented.  One might even say that it’s a little theater-mad, so there’s a lot of theater activity and interest thereabouts.  In addition to the adult shows it produces, Gas Lamp also has many other programs and activities for its supporters. 

[The troupe’s Follies was presented at the Women’s Club of Glen Ridge on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, 22, 23, and 24 November (with two shows on Saturday).  Auditions for the production, as you’ll read, were held at the auditorium of Glen Ridge’s Ridgewood Avenue School on the evening of Monday, 23 September, with callbacks for teens on the 27th and adults on the 25th and 27th. 

[The company rehearsed on Monday through Thursday evenings, starting with the first meeting of the cast on Monday, 30 September.  The final dress rehearsal was on Thursday, 21 November, with the opening performance on the 22nd.  Kirk takes us through the whole proceedings, from audition to rehearsals to performance, making observations along the way, all drawn from his years of experience as an actor, director, composer-lyricist, dramatist, and teacher.]

Recently on this blog I posted an account of several events in the arts in which I participated (see “Performance Diary, Part 1” and “Performance Diary, Part 2”). My hope is that readers not in the arts might find an inside look into theater work to be interesting, and that those in the arts – well, we love telling each other what we’ve been through. In that spirit, here’s an account of an event that followed those in the previous articles.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22 – Walking through an arts exhibit with two friends, one of them, Susan Knight Carlin, mentioned that she was about to direct a production of the musical Follies for a local theater group, the Gas Lamp Players of Glen Ridge, New Jersey. She asked if I might be interested in auditioning for a small role, and I said I was.

Follies, for those not familiar with it, is a 1971 musical with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim (1930-2021) and a book by James Goldman (1927-1998) about a reunion of former members of a series of revues like the famous Ziegfeld Follies of the first part of the Twentieth Century.

The theater building that housed the show’s Follies in the years between World Wars One and Two is about to be torn down, and the reunion brings together many of the stars of those years. In the course of the musical we learn what has happened to those stars since the Follies ended, and see them face revelations about themselves.

Follies first opened on Broadway on April 4, 1971 (the year in which the show is set), and ran until July 1,1972 for a total of 12 previews and 522 performances, a significant number, but its enormous expenses meant it wound up losing all its investment. Its score is generally considered a treasure, with Sondheim capturing the flavor of many styles of songs from the Twenties and Thirties in brilliant fashion. (Among other awards and nominations, the premiere won the Tony for Best Original Score in 1972 and the 1971 Drama Desk Awards for Outstanding Music and Outstanding Lyrics.)

The “book” or script of the musical, on the other hand, has frequently been considered problematic, and Goldman tinkered with it for several revivals of the show. Its central concept, regardless, is remarkable: each of the “original” Follies characters is shadowed by a version of their younger selves, who contrast and eventually interact with them. The show has been revived in major productions several times, often with rewrites to the book. (Despite the book’s problems, Goldman was nominated for 1972’s Tony for Best Book of a Musical.)

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 23 – As it turned out, the audition Susan described was the following night, and I couldn’t go, so using my phone I taped a video of myself singing the Gershwin song “Love Is Here To Stay” to my own piano accompaniment, and emailed it to the theater, attaching my acting resume, which I hadn’t looked at in a while and which was much shorter than I’d remembered.

I was invited to a callback night, and I was available for it, so I went to the school auditorium where the company customarily works. I knew a few people there; most were strangers. Susan spoke briefly, but the evening was primarily led by the pianist for the evening, a woman named Kristy Graves, and I wondered if there was some kind of competition between the two, since Susan had told me she was the director.

I read for two characters, in very short scenes – the musical is mostly music, with relatively few extended spoken sections. I was pleased not to be too anxious about the audition – “audition nerves” are common – and I actually got a laugh on one line reading, which pleased me no end.

A day or so later I was offered the role of Dimitri Weismann, the producer of the long-gone Follies and organizer of the reunion that makes up the show. It’s a small part and a well-written one. I accepted the offer by email and was impressed by the efficiency and organization shown by Gas Lamp’s communications. They left few questions to ask; mailings included a contract and a first week rehearsal schedule, all professionally presented. A good sign.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 30 – First rehearsal. Some productions of musicals begin with a read-through of the script, but the script of Follies is hardly the focus of the show, so we didn’t. The school auditorium where we’ll usually be rehearsing is enormous, something like 800 seats, and I felt intimidated as I entered. Once more I knew only a few people in the room, and I got the feeling that others were in the same shape.

We began with an introductory talk, mostly details about organization. I realized the answer to my curiosity about direction – Kristy introduced herself and Susan as co-directors, because Kristy was also going to play an important role in the show, and it’s difficult (and usually not a good idea) to direct oneself. Susan, a professional actor herself (as was Kristy), would work mostly on acting issues. (Kristy was not the musical director for the show, despite her playing piano for the auditions, and very well too.)

As we got started, I thought to myself, “I haven’t done a big musical like this for a long time.” (That was in fact a major reason I’d been interested in auditioning for the show.) Then I realized that I had never been in a big musical like this before! All my experience in musicals had been on small stages with minimal sets and small cast sizes, none of it recent.

I couldn’t help laughing at myself. I also began to realize how out of practice I was as an actor. For example, most musicals, and certainly one on this scale, rent scripts and scores (sometimes contained in one book) from a publishing company, in this case Music Theatre International, which understandably doesn’t want to get its scripts back with writings in pen all over them. Actors learn to bring pencils. I had forgotten.

I decided I had better pay increased attention to what was going on. (A good thing too, because before I was supposed to enter a scene I found my zipper was down.)  

After the opening talk, the group divided in two, with dancers on the stage and singers in a music room, where we began to learn the parts the chorus would sing. (Unlike many musicals, this one doesn’t have a separate singing-and-dancing chorus; the whole company sings the group music, and there isn’t much of it – most of the songs are for small groups.) Another “big musical” feeling – I had flashbacks to Army training, where a number of us would sit in a classroom while a colonel lectured to us.

Actually it wasn’t really much like that – the choral teacher was quiet and very nice. She familiarized us with some of the tricky bits of the vocal lines – since Sondheim wrote the songs, it makes sense that there’d be tricky bits, because his melodies and harmonies are often complex, but as I said the chorus parts are mostly unison, so we’re all in it together.

At exactly the scheduled time, we reassembled on stage to begin work on the opening scene, the most complicated in the show, in which most of the characters come onstage in small groups and have a moment to identify themselves, both in the scene and for the audience’s benefit. Kristy staged this scene; she talked it through, arranged the actors in their opening places, walked them through the music slowly, repeated the process until it was secure, and by the end of the rehearsal the scene was staged. Presto!

I watched this from behind the upstage curtain (at the back of the stage) – my character comes on late in the opening, and we didn’t quite get there. No problem, I’m sure.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1 – The stage manager sent me an email in the morning that refined the time I’d be expected for rehearsal – another sign of efficiency. I have been trying to figure out what time to leave for rehearsal. Last night I barely got there on time; tonight I was half an hour early.

Susan directed the two short opening scenes in which I have lines and did fine; she has a good eye for staging details. I got almost no direction, but then my two speeches have a total of nine words in them. One actor asked Susan a lot of questions about costumes, on the “Have you considered this?” angle. Susan was polite, but I had the impression she was thinking, “My friend, you have no idea how competent this group is.” Of course it will have considered the costumes, and will have a plan for them too.

Susan had originally said the show might be double-cast, with two actors for each role, but as it turns out only one role has two actors, and they both worked with me on the scene with Solange, so when we were finished I asked, just making small talk, “Is it weird to have a double?” One of the performers said, very frankly, “I have epilepsy and it makes me feel much better to know that someone else can do the role.” So interesting – we often don’t know what someone’s story is.

One more sign of the group’s organization: the stage manager, in the auditorium, sat at a table with someone next to him. I don’t know what his function is, but I’ll bet he has one. That theater means business.

Besides my two short lines, I have one longish opening speech. It’s lovely, and I’m working on memorizing it by reading it aloud over and over, relishing every word.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7 – I was unsure whether I was called for rehearsal tonight – the schedule said “Adult Male Ensemble,” and I didn’t know whether I was included in that group, and couldn’t get clarification. However, I showed up, and it was my worst nightmare – a two-hour dance rehearsal for a big dance number!

I don’t know that I’ve ever done any extended show dancing. I’m certainly not a dancer – very much the opposite. I’m also anything but young and anything but limber, and I have a weak right ankle. No matter. Nothing ventured, nothing gained . . . it’s always darkest just before the dawn . . . to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield . . . Insert your favorite motivational saying here.

Actually I could have used a motivational saying or two – my main difficulty was the voice in my head saying, “You can’t dance worth anything,” followed immediately by my brain, my legs, and my arms shouting, “You’re right!”

There were six of us (there will be eight in the number altogether), none of us young and no more than one or two of us in good shape, but I felt that everyone picked up the steps faster than I did – there are a couple of sequences I never did correctly all night. I have none of what dancers call “muscle memory,” when the body makes the correct moves automatically, and I didn’t demonstrate for certain that I have memory of any kind, actually.

Emily, the choreographer, was cheerful, positive, and has the gift of paying no attention to anything people say along the lines of, “I’m awful with this.” She occasionally corrected but never criticized. She had worked out choreography in advance, but she said to us, “If you don’t like it or it looks silly, we’ll change it,” and I’d say she made up between twenty and thirty percent of the dance (as far as we got tonight) on the fly.

The saving grace is that at the end of the rehearsal she led us in making a video recording so we can work on the steps for next time, which will be next week. No more rehearsals for me this week, but plenty of work to do.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15 – We got the following email today:

We are writing to let you know about some changes made to our Follies production team effective Monday, October 14^th.

Susan Knight has agreed to become sole Director, and Kristy Graves has agreed to step down as co-Director. Kristy will continue to be a member of the cast and the costumer of the show. This change was made to address logistical concerns and potential conflicts of interest.

We expect that these changes will not cause any disruptions to production, but we wanted you all to be aware.

I’ll probably never know what this is all about, but it doesn’t seem to me to have been written in a spirit of joy. A friend of mine ribbed me, “They were doing fine until you got there!”

I’ve since heard that the email was the result of conflict in the theater group’s board. Not surprising, but not great either. NOTE: As things turned out, Kristy and Susan, who had worked on shows together successfully for years, pretty much worked on Follies the way they’d planned to, despite the ultimately meaningless change in titles.

Meanwhile my friend Annie wrote me:

DANCE REHEARSAL!  Still laughing at the panic emanating from those typed words.   It makes me think of something an acting teacher said when assigning some seemingly impossible scene work . . . . you know, one of those things that you think you could NEVER pull off . . way beyond your capability. The student says, “I can’t.” The teacher respectfully accepts that and asks, “Can you try?”

I didn’t like that teacher, but that teaching has stuck with me all these years and it’s gotten me through so many times when I thought I could never do something.  Because it gives me something beside “can I or can’t I.” It gives me “I can try.” Heck, I can always try - that much I can commit to.

And then, of course, the shock is finding out I can do so much more than I thought. Even if not perfectly so . . . . the main key to even a dance performance is the feelings and energy you bring to it. So try to conjure fun and joy and that will translate accordingly.  It’s called a play for a reason . . . . so give yourself permission to play!

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18 – Second dance rehearsal, quite different this time: we were in a cafeteria rather than on stage; most of the rehearsal was spent on cleaning up what we’d learned last time; and the atmosphere was more informal than previously.

I had always thought that basically a choreographer was an unchallenged leader, at least when choreographing. At this rehearsal there was a great deal of back and forth (not with me!), even at moments when Emily was actually working out choreography (she revised some steps when necessary).

I had worked literally for hours on the dance as seen in the video of it, and although I doubt if I looked much like a dancer tonight, at least I looked like I’d been to the previous rehearsal. A couple of the men in our group told me they didn’t watch the video at all during the week; I can’t imagine that, but I never looked, or tried to look, at how anyone else was doing – I had my own problems.

By the end of the rehearsal we had at least seen all the steps that will make up the routine, and we’ll have new videos, or I hope so. All in all, I didn’t have too much of that going-down-with-the-ship feeling I had last week. A great relief.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 21 – After Susan made a speech telling us it was all right that Kristy was still doing the staging, Kristy dictated to us the remaining moves we made in Act 1. It turned out that I have more lines in the act than I had realized – good grief!

Also I did a spectacularly poor job of writing down the blocking as she gave it, because I found it hard to locate myself in the script, which of course alternates between dialogue and song lyrics (with the music in a separate section at the back of the book). I got some of it clearer in my mind when we walked the scenes, although I had to be coached a great deal; I asked a question afterwards, to clarify one bit; and my next job at home is to work it all out in a form that makes sense for me. Busy busy busy!

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 24 – As I was cramming for tonight’s dance rehearsal, my son Craig said to me, “Each time you do it, it’ll be better.” That was exactly what I needed to hear, and it’s true, although I forget it when trying desperately to keep up.

Actually I’m hardly alone in this – none of us in the number are trained dancers as far as I know or can see. I know I look like a guy trying to dance. But it’ll get better, and it did tonight, too.

Emily had to leave for a while in the middle of the rehearsal for a family errand, and while we waited for her to get back, the eight of us worked on the number very slowly, and when she got back she seemed to be pleased with what she saw.

Susan, our director, watched the last run-through of the number and seemed delighted, but when I talked to her I was surprised to learn why. “Usually you’d expect this number to be performed by young professional dancers. It’s so much fun to see a group of older men doing it!”

Not exactly high praise, and I wouldn’t want to use her comment as an excuse not to at least try to do a good job . . . but she’s got a point. My friend Colleen, a choreographer, has also pointed out that an audience almost always cheers a group of men trying to dance, pretty much no matter how they do.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 30 – I wasn’t sure why I was at tonight’s rehearsal, and neither was anyone else. Susan staged a scene in which I had one line, at the end of the scene, and then everybody decided I could go home.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31 – Halloween, and driving to the theater in the dark was a perilous adventure, with children all over the place. This was a dance rehearsal, and my advice to myself for the evening was to think, not about what I knew at the start of the rehearsal, but of how much more I’d know at the end.

As it turned out, we started with four of the eight men in the dance, a number that later swelled to six. Emily wasn’t there, and Kristy led the rehearsal, moving slowly through the sections of the dance and “cleaning up” bit after bit. It was two hours of steady work. At first I was mildly irritated that Kristy was working the number instead of Emily – what if she told us things Emily didn’t want? – but she did an excellent job. Is there anything she can’t do?

Midway through the rehearsal I decided to imagine that I was Mikhail Baryshnikov (b. 1948), the great dancer. I have no idea if I moved any better as a result, but I felt more comfortable and had more fun.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4 – The best laid plans . . . tonight’s rehearsal was supposed to start at 6:30, but a school age production by the same company rehearses in the same space and ran late, so we didn’t get all the way through Act 1 tonight. The creative staff didn’t seem stressed, though.

The movement in Act 1 is complex, lots of people on stage for substantial parts of it, and although I had notes on my movements, tonight was the first time I’d actually done them. The directors, again, were patient. I’d been told that I enter with my (character’s) granddaughter; I met her tonight, a lovely, personable woman. Weismann (my character) must have been quite a charmer in his youth.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 6 – The day after the election, and Kristy brought in about six different chocolate desserts, which went fast. Yesterday the non-musical scenes with the eight principals rehearsed; tonight was for big group numbers, and for those of us who haven’t seen them practicing, the effect was like a magic act – suddenly there are all these people on the stage doing intricate dance steps and singing like crazy.

Eventually we men (we call ourselves the “Poor Lost Souls” after a line in our song) got to do our dance number – not that we’d expected to – and then we went into the hall, worked our way through it bit by bit, and I’d say got pretty sharp with it. Emily, when she came out to watch, seemed pleased. A relief – I no longer feel I’m hopeless.

My discovery tonight was what a difference a wig makes. The two women in the “Buddy’s Blues” number wore wigs with long curly brown hair tonight, and both seemed utterly transformed. Ah, theater!

The junior show (“Singing in the Rain,” it turns out) has the auditorium tomorrow night, so we were going to meet at Kristy’s house, but at the end of tonight’s rehearsal Kevin, the stage manager, announced we’d be off until Monday. Okay! More time to get things solid. I almost have the group songs memorized, and I noticed that a number of people were still reading them from the script, so that felt good.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7 – Kevin, the stage manager, sent out a request for hands to help move pieces of the set into the theater (the Glen Ridge Women’s Club) where we’ll be performing, so I went over to help. Most of the dozen or so people there are old hands with the theater – a real ”community” theater. It was fun to hang out with the “in group.”

A note on my character in the show and how I approached it: the script suggests that Dimitri Weismann is 80, and I’m close to that age. I started with an image of him – authoritarian, maybe with an accent acquired from his immigrant family, a real boss.

Eventually I remembered that beginning an acting role with an image is a terrible idea; it channels you into working for effects rather than working from the inside of a character. I couldn’t think of any reason Weismann shouldn’t be like me – I’ve led theater companies, I’ve put on numerous productions over the years, I’ve directed.

So I allowed Dimitri to behave as I’d naturally behave, rather than the reverse, and apparently that’s fine. I did buy black-rimmed glasses (with clear glass lenses); letting my hair go grey, I looked a bit like a Cary Grant (1904-1986) imitator. Nothing wrong with that.

[Since it covers the entire preparation and performance period of Gas Lamp’s Follies, Kirk Woodward’s “Performance Diary” is too detailed and comprehensive to be accommodated in a single post.  Therefore, Kirk and I have agreed to split it into two installments for publication on Rick On Theater.  “Performance Diary: Follies, Part 2” will be published on Wednesday, 18 December 2024.  Please return then for the account of the final days of the Gas Lamp Players’ Follies.]

Performance Diary, Part 2

by Kirk Woodward 

[In my introduction to the first part of Kirk Woodward’s “Performance Diary,” posted on Rick On Theater on 25 August, I wrote:

Life in the theater is complex.  It covers a gallimaufry of fields, disciplines, and specialties.  It’s also labor-intensive, taking more time in one’s day, week, and month than most other endeavors in which people engage.  Many people, both theater folk and “civilians” (as one of my teachers referred to non-theater people—muggles, if you will), see a life devoted to the stage as more a calling than an occupation.  It’s what we do for love—to paraphrase the lines from the impassioned song in which Diana leads the dancers in A Chorus Line.

As Kirk writes in his “Performance Diary”:

I hope this account indicates some of the many practical issues one encounters when putting on a performance, no matter which kind of performance it is.  Few things are “easy” in performing, no matter how small the show or how expert the team.

I told Kirk, after I read both parts of his diary, that it made me reminisce some, so it obviously rings true.  I assured him that it's exactly what I want for ROT, along with the performance reports.  He chronicled the day-to-day activities of a theater pro—in Kirk’s case, a director, actor, teacher, and a little bit of a writer—when he’s involved in actual theater work.

[The second half of this diary, posted below, focuses on the production of two new one-act plays in which Kirk had two roles.  Kirk’s aim is to point out more of the interesting challenges he encounters while working in theater. 

[I don’t think that reading these diary excerpts in any particular order will make a difference with respect to comprehension; nevertheless, I suggest going back to Part 1 either before or after reading Part 2, is well worth your while.  (Readers may find that there are things mentioned in the second installment and explained or identified in the first part, but which aren’t elucidated in the second part.)]

During the period between the middle of April and the middle of June 2024, I was involved in a number of performance activities, all but one of which I described in Part 1 of this series. In this article I describe, from an actor’s point of view, my experiences doing two one-act plays in a local theater.

APRIL 10 – I was asked to do a role in a long one-act play in June, playing a guidance counselor, and I've printed out my script to start learning the lines.

APRIL 28 – I’ve been cast in a second one-act play for June, also without auditioning, and not particularly gloriously – it’s wonderful to have someone cast you because they think you can do the role, but I meant to go to the auditions last Saturday and completely missed them, which is embarrassing. Oh well, now I have two roles in the production, which will be staged at the Union Congregational Church (UCC) in Montclair, New Jersey, by the UCC Players.

The two plays are:

Rosaline Wrecked It All (Stephen Kaplan) – Rosaline from Romeo and Juliet, who didn’t go to the party with Romeo, deals with everyone’s blame for the subsequent suicide of the ill-fated lovers. The play is a dramedy set in a high school and many of the characters are students in the school.

You’re Bound to Come Up With a Good Idea, written by Peter Felicia (b. 1946), longtime theater reviewer for the Newark Star-Ledger, is funny. In the play, a writing student tries to convince her instructor that she can plot a good novel. A two-character play; I play the instructor.

APRIL 30 - Meanwhile I’m realizing that my task for the next few weeks is basically memorizing, getting the lines for the one-act plays in my head – and I don’t have that many of them.

I know, I know, people always ask actors, “How do you remember all those lines?” Well, to be honest, it’s a good question, and the answer is something of a mystery, and I have never understood how actors manage to memorize their lines. I know ways and techniques; I just can’t visualize how it works inside the brain.

So far I’m just reading the scripts, trying to get the sense of the lines (that’s definitely task #1) and trying to start making connections between what the other actor says and what that leads me to say.

MAY 8 – First cast readthrough for Rosaline. I like the play.

First readings are nearly always ghastly experiences, with actors trying to impress the other actors and no one knowing much about what the play is about. Adding to today’s difficulties, the rehearsal was a Zoom hybrid, with the high school students in a classroom and the adults at home. But the cast can relate to the play, especially the teenagers in it, and by the time we were halfway through the play the reading was going smoothly.

The next step is learning lines, some of these young actors have long speeches and scenes to get into their minds. I’m having enough trouble with memorizing my one short scene.

MAY 9 – First rehearsal for Good Idea. Janet Aldrich, the director, is a formidable actor in her own right. She told my partner and me that she had no preconceived ideas about how to stage the play, but right away she started making suggestions about physical moves that would emphasize what the players are saying. In many cases the suggestions amount to her saying, “Visualize what you’re talking about, look at the visualization, and physicalize it,” an approach that my wife used to call “theater for the deaf,” but for this particular script her ideas were usually good ones.

MAY 19 – I’ve continued reading my lines daily – not really working on memorizing them yet, just reading them. But this afternoon was our second rehearsal for Rosaline, the first with both adults and students in the room in person. Several actors were missing but the director had us do the scenes we had people for, plus some large-group work. Janet Aldrich, the director of this play, doesn’t seem to be over-prepared, but she has self-confidence and a good eye, and her blocking seemed fine.

Early rehearsals can be agony, since everyone is deep in their scripts. I don’t usually like it when a director gives acting notes while still in the blocking phase, but we don’t have a great deal of time. I tried to stay calm, breathe, listen, and not get irritated when the director tells me to do something – a bad habit I have, and a crazy one. I try to remind myself that directors are only trying to help you.

MAY 23 – Theater can be so simple, can’t it? Actors act, directors advise. Sometimes it’s like that.

Rehearsal for Good Idea tonight. Janet told stories about the great director George Abbott – she worked with him on a show when he was just turning 100! Like Abbott, I think, she doesn’t do a lot of pre-planning but watches the actors closely and responds to what she sees. She had an angle for my character tonight that we hadn’t discussed at all last week; the new approach strikes me as excellent, and I’m almost “off book” with my lines memorized, so at the next rehearsal we should have some fun.

MAY 26 – A rehearsal for Rosaline with most of the cast present. For a one-act play it’s long, which gives the director a lot of challenges, but I’m not the director! More power to her!

MAY 27 – Still working on memorizing my lines for the one-acts. The process feels like building connections (bridges? synapses?) among the words in the lines, so eventually they are structured in the brain the way they need to be. I wonder if others feel the same way about how memorization happens.

MAY 30 – Rehearsal for Good Idea tonight, and an interesting situation for an actor: at our last rehearsal the director had given me an approach for the character to take. Tonight, before we’d read a line, she gave me a different assignment for how to perform the character. (I think she had been talking with the playwright, whom she knows, and he might have given her the idea.)

I was taken aback, but what can one do in a situation like that? There’s only one right answer as far as I know, and that’s to try it, so I did, and by the end of the rehearsal I felt things were going well, not exactly with either of her suggestions, but with a mix.

Also, my scene partner and I are both almost “off book,” not needing the script anymore.

JUNE 2 – How do directors do it? We rehearsed Rosaline today and, with three weeks to go before we open, the director listened patiently while actors read scenes in low voices, as though they were talking to themselves; I was the only person who did a scene without a script, and I’m barely in more than one scene. It will come together, but what a journey! A worthwhile destination, but full of perils.

I had a real Actor’s Ego (or My Ego) moment today. I spent a great deal of time thinking about how the cast would feel if I knew my lines, or if I didn’t and blew them. How wrong is that! My job is to focus on what’s happening in the scene. I had to continually remind myself of that. Shame! (I wasn’t perfect with the lines, but I was all right.)

JUNE 6 – Both one-acts cancelled a rehearsal this week. More time to learn lines, which are still being stubborn in the details.

JUNE 11 – Rehearsal tonight for Good Idea. Janet, the director, is an extraverted and talented performer – think Ethel Merman (1908-1984) – so her suggestions to us sound like she’s giving line readings – “do it like this.” However, she’s not – she doesn’t ask for imitation, she’s just giving ideas.

Good Idea has nine very small scenes, and she asked us to paraphrase each one before we did it with the written lines, just for this rehearsal. I was leery, partly because I was afraid I’d start using paraphrase in the performance. However, it loosened our acting up a lot, and we had fun. Paraphrase is a technique I’ve used when directing Shakespeare, but almost never with modern-language plays. I may start, now, though.

JUNE 15 – Today’s rehearsal for Rosaline was a preordained mess, with almost the whole cast together, something between 12 and 15 people, in a different space from before, with blocking and lines still uncertain. Kathryn, the director, wanted to get a timing for the show, but the workthrough took at least twice as long as it should have.

She was frank that the purpose of the rehearsal was to show everyone how much work they still had to do, and it did, so it was useful, but I had almost no concentration and couldn’t think of lines I’ve known for weeks.

I still feel that a director should define for the cast a single, definite purpose for each rehearsal, or for each run through, with the choice of purpose determined by whatever needs the most work. Today we had at least a double purpose (both lines and blocking) instead of a single one.

JUNE 17 – A four-hour rehearsal of all the one-acts, half an hour of it devoted to getting the room in shape to work in (not the large room where we’ll be performing – it’s not available yet – but a smaller room in the church), and half an hour to put it back.

Janet, one of my directors, said, “I don’t know how anyone can remember their lines in conditions like this,” and she’s right, which again is a reason for a director to define what’s expected of the actors at each point of a rehearsal, and to reassure them that it’s okay not to try to do everything at once, especially since each time something new is added or something major changed, the acting falls back to an earlier stage. It will recover, but not until a subsequent rehearsal.

Kathryn, the principal director, became so frustrated at having to repeat things she’d already emailed the cast that she said, “Does anybody read what I wrote?” The answer, not just in this show but in nearly everything, is no, most people don’t read what someone wrote, especially on email.

They may glance; they may overlook; they may ignore. They seldom if ever study the message point by point and try to retain what they read. They just don’t. At least that’s my experience – I’ve seen this in the business world repeatedly. (I had a bread-and-butter job in an office until I retired a few years ago.) Also, of course, the younger the people involved, the less they want to do with email at all. They prefer texting, or whatever has superseded that.

For myself, I tried to work on relaxing and concentrating in the moment tonight. Kayla, my scene partner in Good Idea, told me afterward that she’d decided the same thing, and both of us felt the rehearsal was useful for us.

JUNE 18 – A technical rehearsal in which we didn’t do any acting, just working on transitions and scene changes. That’s not entirely true – Kayla and I got to do our scene a couple of times.

A famous director – or maybe all directors – once said, “No matter how much you rehearse, you always need two more weeks.” That appears to be the case with our show – Rosaline needs more work on the acting and the scene changes have difficulties and will take a while to settle down – longer than we’ve got?

Also, we have a new lighting board and lights. They’re run by computer, and from what I saw of the program that operates them, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to make them work, and last night no one else did either, so we only had two working lighting instruments. (That bread-and-butter office job I had?  It was in IT.)

Overall lesson from last night: improvisation is a useful tool in theater, but not for the technical aspects of a play.

JUNE 20 – Last rehearsal (“final dress”) before we open tomorrow night. The show ran 2 hours 15 minutes, which is a little long, but it should compress a bit tomorrow night. Many set changes were botched, and Rosaline had a number of technical breakdowns; otherwise the show seemed pretty good, particularly since we hadn’t run it in several days. I attribute my big blunder to that fact: I made an entrance in Rosaline on the wrong side of the stage, but it was the first time I’d done the scene on that stage (the night before opening!) so I didn’t feel too incompetent. Besides, it’s easily fixed.

I spoke up about one thing, the curtain call, which was a mess, long and difficult to follow. I believe curtain calls should be quick and effective, because they’re the last thing an audience will see, and audiences mostly remember what was most recent.

JUNE 21 – Kathryn sent out the following this morning: “Curtain call:  no individual play bows, only one company bow, then up to Kyle, then another company bow, then off or out.” Thank goodness.

I also had a separate email asking if I’d mind cutting a long section of one speech I have. (I don’t mind.) A little late in the game? Well, yes, although of course line changes – even changes of whole scenes, or acts for that matter – used to be standard in out-of-town shows headed for Broadway, hence Sheldon Harnick’s well-known curse on Hitler, “He should have had to be out of town with a musical!”

My friend Nick, drawing on the legend that a bad dress rehearsal means a good first performance, said, “Now you’re bound to have a great opening night!”

After all the above, it was an acceptable opening night. We arrived at the theater to find that there was no power – and this in the middle of a heat wave, with temperatures in the 90’s. The power came back but the air conditioning never did. Peter Felicia, the former reviewer for the Newark Star-Ledger who wrote Good Idea and was there tonight, texted Janet, “Well, truth to tell, my wife just couldn’t take the heat, so we had to leave after my show. I was sorry, because I would have loved to have seen the others. You have VERY talented performers!”

In my experience actors won’t let a show fail – they’ll do something to keep it afloat. Everybody tonight seemed to have a commitment to the project; our Rosaline in particular was staggeringly good. I was happy with the couple of scenes I was in, and all in all we got through the evening well enough. But it was hot!

JUNE 22 – The air conditioning was back, the cast was confident, my scenes went well except that I could not remember the concluding phrase of my last speech and kept trying out substitutes. No harm done as far as I know. The show was videotaped, so presumably I’ll be able to check my performance at some point, if I want to. A more lively audience than the previous night’s.

In one scene, on a contentious point a husband is supposed to say to his wife that “I said yes” to another group of people, and the play went on from there. Tonight he said, “I said no.” She was dumbfounded and responded, “You said what?” Eventually she ad-libbed, “I know you, you really said yes,” and got the scene back on track. I’m not sure the actor ever realized what he’d said.

This incident reminded me of a story that Ken Barnes, a technical director at my college, told about a melodrama in which an actor supposedly entered late in the first act and announced, “I can pay the mortgage!” The entire play, the story goes, was derailed for some time . . . .

JUNE 23 – Our final performance, a matinee, followed by “strike,” in other words taking down the set and putting everything away. A quiet audience but they cheered and stood at the end – you can never tell how an audience will ultimately feel. Much of the cheering was for a high school student named Camilla Perez, who played the role of Rosaline and knocked it out of the park – she was strong, dynamic, and letter perfect in a huge part. I’d be astonished if she doesn’t go on to other notable things. I had one scene with her and one with an actress named Kayla Jackson, who was a pleasure to work with.

So I got some major breaks in the production, and all in all it was a good experience. I learned, or reinforced, some points about both directing and acting, and I am filled with admiration for everyone who undertakes the adventure of doing a play. Much more goes into it than many people realize. Theater must be a worthwhile activity – we all keep coming back.

[I said in my introduction to both parts of Kirk’s “Performance Diary” that reading it had caused me to reminisce about some of my own theater experiences.  I made note of some of them, so I thought I’d share them with Rick On Theater readers. 

[I’ve recounted some of these tales before, including in various posts of ROT, so you’ll pardon me if you’ve read them before.

[In Part 1, Kirk writes about performing with his colleague and friend Martha for the New Jersey Mental Health Players.  In the scene he describes, Martha played a woman suffering from depression and Kirk was her “oblivious brother.” 

[The issue about which Kirk writes in the diary is the confusion experienced by some members of the audience about whether he and Martha were actually siblings and if she was depressed in real life.  Here’s the memory that anecdote jogged for me:

I played Mother, the drug-pusher in A Hatful of Rain (Michael V. Gazzo, 1955), when I was in the army in West Berlin (1971-74).  An Air Force NCO who’d seen the show spotted me when I was out in the U.S. military compound doing tasks related to a security investigation.  (I was a Military Intelligence officer and we wore civilian clothes on duty, not army uniforms.)  The non-com actually threatened me, saying I was a real bastard and he'd like to take care of me some night in a dark alley!  I pointed out I was a U.S. Army officer and he needed to back off.  

[I remarked in my note that that was audience confusion!

[In his 21 June entry in Part 2 about the opening performance of Rosaline, Kirk recounted that there’d been a heat wave and that the air conditioning in the performance space had gone out.  “It was hot,” recorded Kirk.  This reminded me of another experience I’d had in the summer of 1977, when the tri-state area was in the midst of a severe heat wave.

[I was working on a master of fine arts degree in acting at Rutgers University’s School of Creative and Performing Arts (now the Mason Gross School of the Arts) in New Brunswick, New Jersey.  That summer, I was part of the Rutgers University Summer Theatre, a two-play presentation that combined MFA actors and professionals from New York City.  Here’s my recollection of that experience:

I was playing “Gunner” in Misalliance (1909-10) by George Bernard Shaw.  We couldn’t run the A/C except before curtain, at intermission, and after the final bow because it was too noisy.  It was so hot in the Philip J. Levin Theater on the campus of Douglass College, I sweated so much—​partly because I started out in the “Turkish bath,” a wooden box enclosed on all six sides—t​hat my green plaid suit looked black by the end of my first scene.  (That’s not a joke or even hyperbole.  It’s absolute emes.)

[For the record, the heat wave started on Wednesday, 13 July, and lasted through Thursday, 21 July.  On the last day of the heat wave, the temperature reached 104 degrees, just below the all-time record for New York City of 106, set in 1936.

[On the first day of the heat wave, New York City suffered a blackout that lasted 25 hours, caused by a lightning strike that tripped two circuit breakers.  When the circuit breakers didn’t reset, the city was sent into darkness as all electric power was lost.

[I drove from New Brunswick into the city (where I lived during my time at Rutgers) after the performance that night, with a carful of New York actors I was chauffeuring back and forth.  I also had my dog with me because I was in New Jersey too long to leave him home. 

[That night, I packed the dog, his things, and clothes for a few days, and the next day, when I got back to New Brunswick, the dog and I moved into the apartment of a couple of MFA classmates and stayed in Jersey until the power in the city went back on.

[In his entry for the next day, Kirk related an incident in which an actor flubbed a line and said the exact opposite of what he was supposed to say.  It took a few more lines until the actress in the scene with him ad-libbed a line that got them back on track.  That reminded me of another Rutgers performance, a year earlier than Misalliance:

One night in a performance of Devil Take the Hindmost by my classmate William Mastrosimone, a playwriting candidate at Rutgers, I also flubbed a line.

Devil is an epic play about the Battle of Trenton in the American Revolution.  (1976 was the Bicentennial Year, of course, and Bill is a native Trentonian.)  I played Colonel Johann Rall, the Hessian mercenary commander of the garrison at Trenton (for readers who didn’t get history in a U.S. school, the Hessians were paid allies of the British), an actual historical figure who died of wounds received at Trenton.  

Mortally wounded, Rall was captured after the Battle and when I surrendered to George Washington, I was supposed to say, “I beg you to treat my soldiers as men of honor.”  What came out of my mouth one night, however, was “I beg you to treat my soldiers as men of iron"!  (I don’t know where that even came from.)

The actor playing Washington, Jeffrey B. McLaughlin, a New York pro hired for the production (a huge cast representing three armies—American, British, Hessian—and a number of civilians, the company included not only MFA and undergraduate actors from Rutgers, local residents who were frequent participants in university theater, members of the university theater faculty—I got to act with my own acting teacher—and Actors’ Equity Association professionals), was standing face-to-face with me, a few inches apart at center stage. 

As I spoke those nonsensical words, I knew I was screwing up, but it was too late to stop, and Jeff had a look of perplexity and, yes, fear, on his face which he was fiercely trying to hide from the audience seated on all four sides of our environmental performing area.

We nevertheless went on as if I’d said the most appropriate thing imaginable!

[Devil was Bill Mastrosimone’s playwriting MFA thesis script.  Johann Rall was my thesis role for my acting MFA.  The university theater production of the play took place in November 1976.  (The Battle of Trenton, the first major American victory of the Revolution, took place on the night of 25-26 December 1776, almost exactly 200 years before our show.) 

[It was Rutgers’s entry in the Northeast Regional Festival of the American College Theatre Festival IX.  We were selected as a finalist and went on to the regional festival, hosted by Cornel University in Ithaca, New York, in February 1977.  Unhappily, we didn’t place in that competition, so we didn’t perform at Washington, D.C.’s John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts that April.

[(I don’t know if Bill had to write anything other than the play text, though he, like all of us MFA candidates, had to face an oral defense before the faculty degree committee.  I had to write about the work that I did to create the role of Colonel Rall, which is on reposit in the Archibald S. Alexander Library at Rutgers.  I also posted the thesis on Rick On Theater on 10 and 15 December 2009.)]