Season Seven: Week 35

Tuesday

 

Tonight was our long-anticipated visit from fight choreographer (and Parnall/youth facilitator) Patrick Hanley! We had an absolute blast with him last spring, and his fights were (obviously) so much better than the very basic ones I’m capable of coming up with that we were all eager for him to come back.

I’d sent him notes about the fight scene that our Banquo rough-blocked in a moment of inspiration, and we started with that. It was exciting to all of us that he’d taken her ideas and built on them, and the fight looked great. As did the others!

That’s what took up the bulk of our time. And, while some of us worked on stage with Patrick, the rest of us multitasked in small groups around the auditorium.

I went and sat with our Porter, who had been so worried about learning her lines the week before, to see how she was doing. She’s feeling much better: she has some of her dialogue with Macduff down, and she’s come up with a great way to cut down/improvise her way through her monologue. I told her that as long as Macduff knew her cues to knock, she could do whatever she wanted.

“That makes me feel so good,” she said. I told her that as long as she gets from the beginning of her scene to the end, she’s good! That our goals in putting on a show are not to make high art or be Broadway-quality actors, but simply to show up, tell a good story, do our best, and have fun.” You make it fun,” she said. “You don’t put pressure on us. It gives me confidence to do other things.” She described signing up for a special program that required hands-on participation and said she’d had no qualms about raising her hand to be the first to participate. “I’m usually the last person, but now I’m the first person.”

“That’s amazing,” I said. She continued, “You said you’d rather have me than the lines. That feels really good, because you don’t hear that that much. And that makes me want to work harder and learn my lines more.” She said she’d been nervous when she signed up for Shakespeare, but she was so glad that she did. “I wasn’t sure what to expect. People said, ‘You’re gonna open up.’ Well, you can’t help but open up! And that’s what I did.”

As I paused to write down as much of what she’d said as I could (asking her to repeat phrases I’d only partially gotten down), our Macduff came over to check in. “We gotta go through this and find your cues,” said our Porter, pointing at her script. “But I already memorized all the damn lines!” Macduff exclaimed. “Your lines are all good,” I said. “She’s just making some changes to her monologue, and we want to make sure you’re both on the same page about when the knocking comes in.” “Oh, phew!” she said, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll do whatever you want on that!” They went to another part of the auditorium to talk it through.

As I continued scribbling down notes, our Banquo and Third Murderer came over to me, smiling and a little breathless. “How’d it go?” I asked, as they’d just learned their fight. “GREAT,” said our Third Murderer, smiling and leaning against the wall. “I feel great right now.” Our Banquo nodded vigorously, saying, “They should have this in prison. It’s a real stress reliever.” They agreed that, with an outlet like stage combat, people might feel calmer and less apt to be physically violent. “I was having a pissy day, and these sword fights took away all that tension,” said our Third Murderer. “Like, I don’t feel that stress no more. It’s like, ‘Stress-free!’”

She’d had a rough day the last time I saw her, and I asked how it was going with the woman in her unit who’d been bothering her. Not much better. “I was gonna beat her up today, but I thought about Shakespeare and I was like, no — I’ve worked too hard for this. I’ve got my characters, I’ve memorized my lines — I’m not getting in trouble. I’m not doing that to my team.” I told her that that was great and applauded her for keeping it together. This kind of self-control is pretty new for her. “I’m telling you, Frannie, this is my saving grace. Any time anything bad happens in my life, I’m like, at least I’ve got Shakespeare.” She showed me a copy of Interréd With Their Bones, which she’s reading, and told me how exciting it is — she can’t stop talking about it. “And everyone in my unit is like —" She raised an eyebrow and looked down her nose “— ‘Shakespeare nerd.’ And I’m like —” she shrugged and smiled. I told her she’s in good company!

We wrapped up, all in great moods, some of us breathing deeply and flushed from working those fights. It was a really, really great night.


Friday
 

Tonight, I spent a lot of time with an ensemble member whom last year’s Curtain Queen and I sort of drafted to be this year’s Keeper of the Master Script. Our 2017 Curtain Queen is playing Macbeth this year, so she obviously needs to trade one imaginary crown for another. And this other ensemble member accepted her new role excitedly, even though she was pretty nervous to take on that much responsibility.

We’ve found that it’s extremely helpful to have a script on either side of the stage that has all of the information we could possibly need: curtain cues, sound cues, entrances, exits, when sets and strikes occur, etc. I coordinated this last year with CQ, but I’ve got a few absences coming up (I’m directing a play; a commitment I made only after asking permission from the ensemble), and someone with consistent attendance needs to be on top of this for the rest of us. And, thus, the 2018 Keeper of the Master Script was duly initiated.

Our Macbeth actually ended up sitting with us for a bit while other scenes were worked, helping us remember the curtain cues that I didn’t have written down. We decided not to write in the sound cues just yet, but I talked through some sound design questions I had with them, and they were excited to help in that way.

Focus was split throughout the evening, but that was largely due to ensemble members’ need to do things like write their cues and lines on index cards, highlight their new scripts (with cuts removed), or, of course, work on a scene. Our numbers had dwindled by the end of the night, and we discussed our game plan moving forward. We’re bumping it up a notch: leaving less time to chat and check in when we arrive, and asking that people arrive on time and stay till we’re done unless absolutely impossible. The timeline for each session actually came from an ensemble member who’s nearly always on time, but also nearly always leaves early, and she said that if we stuck to it, she wouldn’t have a problem staying — she just hates to feel like she’s wasting her time because there’s a lot on her plate. All were agreed.

We also talked through a schedule for the rest of our time. We’re in the home stretch! One ensemble member said that she was getting really nervous, particularly about memorizing her lines. We assured her that that was normal and suggested some tips. She still seemed on edge. I told her that no one would have her lines down perfectly and asked if she would be angry with anyone who messed up. “Definitely not,” she said. “Then who’s gonna be mad at you if your lines aren’t perfect?” I asked. Facilitator Kyle asked the room if anyone there would be upset with her for that reason, and we all shook our heads emphatically. “The only pressure to be perfect is coming from you,” I said. “So try to relax and let it go, because freaking out isn’t going to help!” She said that she would have been much more anxious a few months ago, and that she credited her new resolve to her participation in SIP. “I’m worried about getting in front of people… But, being in here, I’ve cracked my shell… It helped me speak my mind and express my feelings. It made me stronger. And other people outside of Shakespeare have noticed something’s going on.” Those of us in the room said that we have definitely noticed!

That was a lovely note to end on. We’ve got a list of scenes to work on Tuesday, and then we’re into work-throughs, runs, dress rehearsals, and — at long last — performances. Watch this space.

Season Seven: Week 34

Tuesday
 

We had a guest tonight, filming a piece that we’ll be able to share with you soon! We pretty much went about things as usual, with a few interviews sprinkled in. It was great to have him!

After checking in, I asked the ensemble what they wanted to work on with the camera there. They unanimously agreed on Act I scene i – the visuals they’ve come up with in that scene are really striking. Our First Witch began by bursting through the curtain, letting the fabric linger on her arms like wings, cackling an incredibly eerie cackle. “My heart’s beating from my chest!” exclaimed one woman after the scene was complete. “I was talking, and I was like –” she showed us how she’d frozen to watch. We worked on staying rooted in the earth and adjusted some blocking so that the witches could exit together at scene’s end, rather than splitting focus.

I saw our Porter sitting in the back of the house with another ensemble member, and she looked upset. I went over and asked what was going on. She said she was freaking out about memorizing her lines. She’s having a really hard time, especially with the monologue, and was practically in tears. I tried to calm her down, saying that she could do whatever she wanted with these lines – that the Porter doesn’t impact the story at all and could be cut entirely, so the lines can be altered in almost any way without screwing things up. All we need is the humor, to know she’s drunk ,and for her to take forever to answer the door. I shared the story about when, years ago, our Romeo and Benvolio were so freaked out about their lines that they stopped coming to our meetings. The rest of us decided that preserving the ensemble was more important than preserving the lines, so we cut every one of theirs that we possibly could. It meant that most of the play’s comedy was gone, but our ensemble members came back, the plot still moved forward, and we counted it as a win. That made her feel a lot better, and we strategized a bit about what to do with the monologue. I asked her to get creative and surprise us!

We said goodbye tonight to a longtime ensemble member who was being paroled prior to our next meeting. She told us that she was glad to leave prison, but very sad to leave Shakespeare. We echoed that: we were ecstatic for her to go, and we knew that we would really miss having her in the ensemble. I said that no one could ever say that she hadn’t been dedicated to SIP for even a second – that, in fact, she ranks as high as anyone on that scale, and higher than many. No one could ever have doubted her passion, either. Or her talent.

I’ve been working with this woman for more than three years, and she’s gone through an absolute sea change in that time. She’s done some very challenging work, and not just in terms of her acting. In the beginning, she had a lot of anger and frustration that she didn’t quite know what to do with, and it often expressed itself in her being caustic with other ensemble members – and very hard on herself. There were times when she’d be so shut down or in her own head that no one seemed able to reach her. Except me. I found that I could always get through, and that I could often help her navigate whatever challenge she was facing. I developed sort of a sixth sense for it; I could often see it coming and swoop in to help her stem the tide. We worked together on that. We even had a code word for a while.

At first, and for some time, she frequently said that she was selfish, self-centered, and that she didn’t care about other people; that she was a bad (even evil) person. We pointed out the many times when she proved herself wrong, and she began to recognize her own capacity for empathy – and to put it to work. This past season especially, I’ve been struck by her increasingly personal involvement with others who were going through hard times: her compassion, words of wisdom, holding of space, and checking in, even with those who were not close friends. She’s opened up a lot. I didn’t note even one occasion this season when she treated anyone with disrespect, even when she was upset with herself or anxious about something in her personal life.

I have a lot of respect for every person who walks through the door to work with us, and that admiration only grows for those who stick it out. This woman has always been so frank about her struggles (and her victories) that I’ve been able to do more detailed work with her than I’m usually able to do with others, so the bond goes pretty deep. It’s also worth noting that, with her departure, there is only one person in the ensemble (other than me) who was involved in SIP earlier than fall of 2015. So it feels like the end of an era; like the youngest member of the “old guard” has left the building.

With our newly-given approval to be in touch with, and even work with, alumni when they’ve left prison, I have a lot of hope that we’ll hear from this woman soon. I’m incredibly excited for her to return to the outside world, settle in, and make her mark. Because I believe she’s going to make a big, bold, very loud, incredibly funny, extremely witty mark. My fingers are crossed that I’ll get to be along for the ride.
 

Friday
 

Several people shared good news during tonight’s check in, but one person was feeling pretty down. In order not to break confidentiality, I won’t share details here, but she’s been dealing with a pretty negative situation in her unit. The group gave her a lot of support, even to the point of silliness, and she was laughing and relaxed by the time we were ready to lower our ring.

We had planned on continuing to work through the play chronologically, but facilitator Assata has stepped into the role of Doctor, and, with her about to be absent for two weeks, our Gentlewoman asked if we could work on the sleepwalking scene. That made perfect sense, so we did it! This woman has become very assertive and enthusiastic about wanting to work on her scenes, and we absolutely love it.

A while back, one of our ensemble members introduced the idea of using a hand mirror in this scene so that Lady Macbeth could talk to herself, but it hasn’t really come into play. She mentioned some places in the scene to use it, but those are lines where Lady is clearly talking to Macbeth, so we tried to find other places – we never want to fight the text. We found a few options and decided to let our Lady do it in the moment if she was inspired.

Immediately after that first run, which felt pretty disconnected, I asked Lady if she’d found a spot to use the mirror. “No mirror,” she said, but the ensemble member who’d had this idea began to strategize about ways in which the mirror could still be used. She suggested that perhaps it could be set on a table mid scene. I asked what other function the table would serve; we don’t usually want to use set pieces if they’re not necessary because they just complicate things. Lady made it very clear that she didn’t want to do that, either, and another ensemble member jumped in to suggest that if the table were set very far stage right, there could be a way to use it that would make sense.

At this point, everyone (on either side of the debate) was pretty frustrated, and Lady asked if she could watch someone do the scene so she could get an idea of how it could work (or not). The ensemble member whose idea this was complied, and she went with the option of placing the table far right.

The woman actually playing the role now said she was ready, but, after beginning the scene, she became increasingly frustrated and stopped. I reminded her that she feels better about her work when she centers herself before going on stage; it’s tough to pull off a role like this going in cold. She asked if the woman playing Macbeth could walk behind her with her script, drop in the lines, and be there for her to talk to directly before her exit.

As the Doctor and Gentlewoman restarted the scene, she planted her feet on the ground, placed her hands on chest and back (warming the ideal center), closed her eyes, and then raised her hand to mime holding the taper. She entered the scene completely focused, with a totally different energy than she’d had two minutes before, and really seemed to be sleepwalking through the space. She was so sad – not unhinged, but sad and guilty. She sank to her knees, putting the candle down on the ground and rubbing her hands not only together, but on her thighs, her shirt, her face, the floor, increasingly desperate, but, again, not crazy. She did this just inches from me, and it gave me chills. It was absolutely beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it from her, and she’s been in the group for a long time. It was one of those performances when you start to wonder where the person ends and the acting begins, and, honestly, if I didn’t know for sure that she was using techniques to keep herself emotionally safe, I would have been worried about her. My notes from those moments say, “I buy this 100%.” She got up, drifted across the stage, then turned sharply to Macbeth and spoke directly to him. And then she drifted off.

It was amazing. We were all floored. “What happened?” I asked. “I blanked out,” she said. I asked her what that meant. She paused and then said, “I can’t tell you nothin’.” She shrugged her shoulders, mystified but very pleased. I said that that’s what happens when you’re truly in the moment: it can be difficult or impossible to analyze what you’ve just done. As we lauded Lady Macbeth with praise, our spunky Gentlewoman jokingly piped up, “Was anyone looking at me?!” We all laughed and told her that she’d been great, too.

The energy shifted, though, when we went back to Act I scene v. I wanted to recommend that we hold off on that scene for another night – it’s exhausting to do what Lady Macbeth had just done, and I thought it would be a better idea for her to rest – but I deferred to the group and didn’t say anything. We began joking about how Lady Macbeth always seems to enter from stage left, with one woman saying, “That’s ‘cause it’s your best side. You know.” She turned her head back and forth as if she were posing for pictures.

We rolled through the scene, but Lady Macbeth didn’t seem able to focus, and she didn’t do the kind of work she’d wanted to. She sat down as the group gave her feedback – and it was a lot of feedback. Too much. I could see that she was becoming overwhelmed, and I tried to subtly get everyone to move on, but that was a challenge. They finally did, and I beckoned to Lady to join me off to the side.

I asked her how she was feeling, and she said she was overwhelmed – that she had wanted to scream and run out of the room. It had been too much feedback, and she was spent after the previous scene’s work. I encouraged her to let everyone know that next time. “You have no problem telling me to shut up,” I smiled (she does this by saying, “I got this. Frannie, I got this.”). “You can tell everyone else to shut up, too!” She said that she wanted to defer to the group, not to be selfish. I replied that actors need to be selfish to a certain extent; we need to do whatever it is we need to do to give our best performance, and our team mates will support us in that. I encouraged her not to be afraid to tell us what she needs – we can only give it to her if we know what it is.

She really was exhausted, but she said she felt a bit better after that conversation. I touched base with the other facilitators afterward to give them a heads up, and we’re all going to make sure that we pay close attention so that she doesn’t get that overwhelmed again.

Season Seven: Week 33

Written by Kyle

 

Tuesday

During check-in, two members had a confrontation dramatic enough that we had to focus on trying to mediate, rather than doing the work we had planned. Both parties were pretty irate and unwilling to concede anything; in the end, they left the auditorium with the conflict unresolved. It hurt our morale, truth be told, and it was well into the evening before we really felt like we were back in the groove of working on Shakespeare. We do our best to mediate conflict and minimize its impact on the group, but sometimes we have to recognize our own limitations as facilitators. I hope some kind of understanding can be reached, but it was clearly not going to happen Tuesday night so we had to let it go.

We managed to have a good night, though. I am really proud of the group for bouncing back and being able to keep the goal in mind by moving forward. A few ensemble members started working Act I, scene iii: one of the witches’ scenes. They worked specifically on their physicality, and another ensemble member had some really great insight for them, which is always ideal. When the direction comes from them, it is all the more empowering, both to the individual and to the group. Despite many of the women having different levels of comfort with conflict, work still happened, and we were all able to leave smiling.

Friday

Friday was a much more productive day, in as much as we were able to work on more of the play. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood; perhaps, with the conflict reaching finality on Tuesday, the group was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps it had been weighing on us more than met the eye, and sometimes you can only feel the true tension in its absence. On the other hand, after a long winter it was the first truly spring-like day, and I’m sure a little sunshine played a part as well! Whatever the reason, the good spirits were very welcome after Tuesday’s session.

The first item on the agenda was to pick the play for next year. Ensemble members were encouraged to make a “One-Minute Pitch” for the play for which they would wanted the others to vote. Like everything in SIP, a seemingly straightforward assignment was met with abundant creativity, and it ended with my face hurting from smiling. There were rebuttals, pleas, tag-teams, and a dance-off. In the end, Twelfth Night was chosen in a landslide victory. Honorable mentions went to Julius Caesar, and The Winter’s Tale. The overarching sentiment was that the group wanted something lighter after working on Macbeth (and, for some of them, Richard III… and Othello…). A particularly funny moment in the debate was one of the women brought up some of the logistical problems with Twelfth Night. She said there’s a lot to keep track of, and a lot of “cross dressing.” One woman responded, “We’re all cross dressing in every play, anyway, so what’s the difference?!” It was a really great way to start the night: light, fun, and looking to the future.

After we chose the play, we had to reassign some of the roles that had belonged to women who’d left the group. I was assigned the role of Lennox, and was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be given an extension for learning my lines. After that, we actually worked many Lennox’s scenes, so I was on stage a lot, and my notes got a little spotty. The ideas were flowing all night, particularly when trying to get everyone on the same page with just each characters’ objective. We stayed mainly in Act V, which can get a little dicey when it comes to logistics. Entrances, pacing, the crux of each scene; all still need a fair amount of ironing out. The cheerfulness continued throughout the night, with the ensemble member goading each other on, challenging each other to “pump it up” and shouting “good!” when the actors hit their mark. All in all, it was a great way to end a difficult week.

Season Seven: Week 32

Tuesday

We spent the evening shooting footage for our Sonnet Project film. Needless to say, we didn’t take many notes, and I don’t want to spoil the film by giving anything away, so… I’ll just say that, even though some ensemble members were dealing with some very dark personal issues, we all came together and did some solid, special work. Later, when I uploaded the footage and began listening to some of the audio, it struck me how much ease we have with each other. This is a group of people who know each other well and work together well. I can’t wait for you all to see the film, whatever it ends up being.
 

Friday
 

During check-in, one of the women said, “I had a nightmare.” She described a dream in which she hadn’t known any of her lines and was freaking out, waking up even more committed to studying her script. “Congratulations,” I said. “You are now officially an actor.”

Our Banquo pointed out that it had been a long time since we’d touched on his murder scene, and, even though we won’t have a visit from our fight choreographer for a couple of weeks, we decided to at least get a good start on it.

We tried a few different entrances for the murderers, with the woman who’s in an offstage role giving most of the direction while I whispered questions to her about her ideas. We finally arrived at the third murderer entering separately from the other two, brandishing Macbeth’s dagger as proof that he is who he says he is.

We began to move on in the scene, but then our Banquo was possessed—maybe actually possessed…—by an idea. She flew throughout the playing space, shouting (not talking) us through it, acting out all the parts and moving the others around the stage like giant action figures. Someone asked me if that was the way our fight choreographer had worked things out. “No,” I said, “But clearly he’s gonna have to adjust.” I asked if we could take it back and go step by step so I could draw it out for him. Our Banquo continued on with that high energy, now joined by the woman who’d been tossing out ideas before, both running and jumping, rolling around, staggering away after being wounded.

We were absolutely delighted by all of this. “[Woman 1] and [Woman 2] get down and dirty!” laughed one woman. “Yeah!” replied one of them. “My armpits are sweaty!” As we all burst out laughing, I wrote down the exchange. “You got that, Frannie?” asked one person. “Oh yeah,” I replied. “It’s going in the blog!” More and more laughter.

We arrived at Act IV scene ii, the murder of Lady Macduff and her son. There was a mix up about casting when this was most recently worked, and we wanted the actors to have another go at it. After the first run, the actors said they felt pretty “meh” about it. I had a feeling that this was due to an avoidance (conscious or not) of the vulnerability necessary to carry it off, but I didn’t want to head off a group discussion by putting all of my cards on the table immediately—plus, the ensemble often comes up with better ideas than mine, and I never want to shut that down. I suggested we take a step back and remind ourselves of why this scene is in the play. What do we need to get out of it?

“There’s a hidden meaning,” said one woman. “Macduff reacts the way you should when someone you love dies. Macbeth doesn’t.” Another woman said that we need to see how vulnerable they are and how senseless this is—that they pose no threat. I asked if we could focus a little, acting wise, on the language about birds that both husband and wife use; that we channel images of a hen and her chick as we worked. I also guided our Ross through some of her lines that indicate that he’s talking around something. She’d played him as so upset that she was yelling, and I asked if she might try it more tamped down, to avoid causing them panic.

Our Lady Macduff asked her son to run on first, saying that she would frequently look over at him during the conversation with Ross. I’m always struck by this woman’s deep understanding of the text. She doesn’t broadcast it—possibly because she’s not completely conscious of it—but she is really, really good at this. I built on what she’d said, encouraging her to think of her son as a battery and recharge with every glance.

The scene worked much better this time, with each actor diving deeper and bringing what they found back up to the surface for the audience. We found ourselves vocally reacting, but quietly; we didn’t want to disturb the scene. When it ended, we applauded, but at first no one spoke. “How did that feel?” I asked the actors. “Better,” they all said. There was another silence. “That was really interesting,” I said. “Did anyone else get the feeling that now the son is comforting the mother?” The answer was a unanimous yes, and the feedback came spilling out. Nearly everything they’d done had been different, and it made us understand the scene in a completely different way.

A couple of people suggested major adjustments, but they were overruled. We wanted to honor what had just happened and stick with these actors’ new interpretations. A few of us gave some suggestions for how they could take those further, and their third run was even quieter and more intimate. All said that they’d “felt it more.” Another ensemble member first praised the work that had been done and then suggested that they “bring it down a notch;” she felt like there’d been too much yelling at times. The actors agreed, with Lady Macduff saying she just wasn’t sure how to ride the rollercoaster. I suggested that they sit together and score the scene like music, making adjustments till they found what worked.

We left rejuvenated and moved by the work we’d done. It was a really lovely way to end the evening.

Season Seven: Week 31

Tuesday

Written by Kyle

We started off the session on a high note, finding out that one of our ensemble members got her GED, which had been a real source of frustration for her. Everyone was ecstatic for her and cheered immediately. She has checked in about struggling with the math section for weeks, brought her math study materials to the group, and frequently left worried about the test; so we all felt like we were part of that success and were happy to share in her accomplishment.

After check-in, we began to work the scene with Malcolm and Macduff. It is, in my opinion, one of the hardest scenes in the play. It is long, involves someone pretending they are something they are not, and difficult to cut because it contains big plot points – in short, it’s a doozy. To be frank, the ensemble members in the scene struggled with it; they felt wooden and disconnected, the blocking felt stuck, and the rest of the ensemble agreed. “I’m not putting enough feeling into it,” said our Macduff, and we set out to talk about what each of the characters want. We tried approaching it in a few different ways, till finally Macduff said, “I think we need to go work on it in the back and bring back.” We all agreed to move on and circle back to Malcolm and Macduff when they were ready.

The next scene we worked was the scene where Lady Macduff and her son are murdered by Macbeth’s henchmen. To be honest, I always worry about this scene. It has a lot of violence that happens on stage, some of which is inflicted on a child. The scene is pretty unsparing as far as it goes, and I always feel like I need to tread lightly as it is approached. That being said, we worked the scene successfully, without incident, and no one voiced any sense of discomfort with the scene’s content. After a little confusion about who was playing which bit part, we really got moving. The scene sparked a really rich discussion about the nuance of our timing as actors. It seemed apparent to the group that a split-second could have a pretty profound effect on the overall success of the scene: the henchmen don’t move until a certain word, and the curtain begins to close only after the sword is drawn, etc. A millisecond too late or too early seemed to throw everything off, and each run incited debate as to what the final product should be. We made our Macduff’s son rehearse her falling over at least eight times before we felt like we had gotten it right. She was a very good sport about it until about the sixth time through, when she decided not to get up again, making us rehearse around her. It was a funny way to finish an otherwise difficult scene.

After the Lady Macduff scene, we circled back to Malcolm/Macduff. They had gone to the back and worked with another experienced, enthusiastic ensemble member; though I did not hear the direction she gave them, it must’ve been good, because they returned with the scene on a completely different footing. They incorporated a real sense of emotional connection, and that seemed to recharge the whole room. Everyone seemed to lean in to see where the scene was going to go and cheered them on as they went. We tried to refine the blocking a bit, but it seemed to be overloading them with direction. In the end, we moved on and promised to come back to it.

At that point, we figured that we would wrap a little early, as most people were leaving. Three members said, “I’ll stay and keep working till 8:30!” which I thought was great. One of our members, who will be paroled very soon, said that she would love to work a monologue she has been exploring from The Winter’s Tale. We were ecstatic to see her perform; she has an incredible command of the language and the stage. We talked about her trying to find some dynamics in the text and crescendo to a climax, corresponding to what her character wants to achieve. We’ve been working with her on finding her own voice in her work as opposed to a character-voice. I think it’s empowering for her to see different iterations of herself expressed in these characters. She struggled with the lines a little bit, and so we finished with me “dropping in” and feeding her the lines so she could focus on her emotional commitment. Each time, she tried it a different way, with a different objective; it was, as always, an electric moment of theatre happening on our stage. She has expressed a desire to pursue theatre professionally once she is paroled; I’m so excited for her, and if she can continue the work that she has done in the group she will undoubtedly go far.
 

Friday

Written by Frannie

Tonight was mostly spent on further brainstorming about the sonnet project that we’re filming on Tuesday. I’m going to save all of that for now so the final product won’t be spoiled!

When some group members pretty clearly wanted to do something other than continue to brainstorm, a few of us huddled in the back of the classroom to wrap up the process. It was a lot of fun. We frequently leapt to our feet to demonstrate our ideas, made sure we all understood each other, and riffed off of each other. Sometimes one of us, watching the others intently, would gasp as an idea came to us, and the rest would stop short to listen.

These ideas are cinematic, exciting, and emotional. I truly hope we can capture all of them!

Before we left for the night, our small group joined the rest (who’d spent the night playing theatre games and talking), and we talked about which plays we were interested in exploring next season. I’ll be bringing in summaries of the following plays for consideration:

•    As You Like It
•    The Winter’s Tale
•    Twelfth Night
•    Julius Caesar
•    Hamlet

It’s incredible to already be thinking about next season. This one is just flying by!