Season Seven: Week 39

Tuesday

We brought in the costumes and props tonight! As usual, it was a little hectic getting everyone oriented and figuring out how to set everything up, but we were still able to start our run at 6:35pm. We had till 8:15pm to get through it, and we nearly did!

One woman told me when she arrived that she’d had some dental work done and was in horrible pain, so she might not be 100%. I asked her if she felt well enough to perform at all – health always comes first – and she said that she thought she could do it; that she’d worked too hard to give up the rehearsal, and that she didn’t want to let the team down. I thanked her for her commitment and assured her that, should she feel the need, no one would blame her for leaving early. But she didn’t. She stuck it out. And, frankly, she fought through the pain to an extent that I doubt anyone would have known that anything was wrong. I periodically forgot, myself.

I’m running sound for the show off of our iPod, so I can’t see much of what happens onstage, but much of what I was able to see was thrilling. Our witches are totally committed to their roles and are incredibly fun to watch. One moment that particularly struck me was when the First Witch showed the others the pilot’s thumb (yes, we have a plastic thumb), she was so gleeful that they couldn’t help but get excited, too. Nor could I!

Our Lady Macbeth was running a bit late, and she wasn’t present when her first scene began. I stood in for her (when we reach this point in the process, we stop for no one!), and, just as I was about to say her first lines, she walked in the room. Seeing her, I yelled, “You’re here! Awesome! Jump in!” And she did, without missing a beat.

Our Porter also stepped up her game in a big way. If you’ve been reading along for a while, you’ll recall that she was very timid until just a couple of months ago; her first try at her scene was very difficult and discouraging for her. But the others rallied around her, building her up and assuring her that she could do it, and she quickly gained confidence with their support. When she had trouble with the lines, I suggested that she do her own thing with them, and she did, largely rewriting the monologue and coming up with some funny shtick for the rest of the scene. And tonight, all that hard work showed – in that it didn’t show at all. Her performance seemed effortless, and it was clear that she was having a ton of fun. Whether we were on stage or off, we couldn’t help but laugh at her; she’s so funny!

Another woman, who’s been a little wishy washy all year, has recently become more focused, which has enabled her to do better and better work. Where she might have been goofing around even a few weeks ago, she now sat at the keyboard back stage, intently going over her script, mouthing her lines. In fact, she was so focused on that that she missed one of her entrances!

We’ve had increasing ownership of the play all through this season, and tonight, that ownership really seemed to solidify. The addition of costumes and props seems to have that effect every year. There’s something about having those physical objects to aid in storytelling – objects that you and your ensemble dreamed up and specifically requested; that you’ve been imagining and miming up till now – that makes the whole thing seem more real. It makes it feel more legit. This is when the whole process begins to crystallize for many people, and it’s a really exciting thing to be a part of.

Friday
 

We facilitators were able to arrive a bit early this evening to set up, and the first things we noticed were the absolutely GORGEOUS backdrops. One of our ensemble members is an incredibly talented visual artist, and she designed an anchor image for these a while back. We’re extremely fortunate (and extremely grateful) to have the support of the prison’s building trades program, which has helped us build and paint our sets and backdrops for years now. The women in that program did absolutely beautiful work; these backdrops are so incredible that, even though we’ve painted over them each year (as per usual in theatre, to conserve budget and materials), we really don’t want to this time. I’m not sure what our storage options are, though. Time will tell!

A few people were absent; we had known that two of them would be, but the others were a surprise (although one turned out only to be late). We decided that things would go smoother if, rather than asking someone unfamiliar with the scenes to fill in, facilitator Lauren (who was on book anyway) would simply read their lines. That worked out pretty well!

Our Lady Macbeth has had a lot going on and hasn’t gotten as far in memorizing her lines as she had planned. Tonight before she went on, as I showed her where some of her props had been set, she said, “I’ve been in my Shakespeare all week. No pressure or anything.” She smiled. “You’re feeling good?” I asked. “Yeah, Frannie,” she replied. “I got this.” She was just about off book for her first couple of scenes – only occasionally calling for line – and after that, though she was holding her script, she hardly looked at it. It was clear that she had, indeed, put a lot of time in, and it’s greatly enhancing her performance.

Our Banquo was one of the people whom we'd known would be absent, and, like I said, since I’m running sound I can’t see much of what happens on stage, so I was surprised when suddenly, instead of Lauren’s voice reading Banquo’s lines, I heard that ensemble member’s. She had walked in, immediately recognized which scene was up, and started saying her lines even from the house. That was a lovely surprise; obviously, we all feel much better when our whole ensemble is present. And she kicks butt in that part.

We made it to the end of the play, when there was some confusion because our Macduff was absent. From where I was, I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. Then, giving up on finding an actual solution, our Macbeth strode on stage, proclaiming victory (which, of course, is the opposite of how the play actually ends). Any frustrations we’d had immediately faded as we laughed together and just sort of ended the play there.

We were not much over the run time we’re limited to (90 minutes), but it was enough to cause some concern. Based on how things had gone on Tuesday, I’d taken a little time to see how much we could safely cut from Act V (which is where things really slow down for us). I asked if anyone wanted to take a look, with the caveat that I’d made these as a “safety net”, and we didn’t have to use them. Everyone who was in Act V said they were open to this new approach. We’ll see how things shake out on Tuesday.  

Our Porter, who also plays Menteith, came over to me as we cleaned up, saying, “Where’d I go in this act?” I replied, “I just cut as much as I could to save time!” She smiled wryly and said, “Frannie, you just made my acting career much shorter!” I told her that we could certainly add her lines back in, but she shook her head and said, “No, no, that’s fine. That’s definitely fine!” She’s got such a great sense of humor, especially now that she’s gained so much confidence – and she has no ego about it at all. She’s conquered the challenge that tripped her up to begin with, and now she’s just in it to have fun and be a solid member of the team. Awesome.

Season Seven: Week 38

Tuesday
 

Written by Frannie

As always with the last few weeks of the season, I’ve been running around so much that I haven’t been able to take many notes! But here’s what I’ve got.

Tonight we had a quick check-in. One of our ensemble members recently organized an event at the prison that was incredibly successful, so much so that she’s now decided to organize a similar event every year if she’s able. The entire ensemble cheered her on; what she’s accomplished is no small thing, she’s never done anything like it before, so, even beyond the event, this is enormous, and we took the time to acknowledge that.

We set out to work through the play, knowing it would be full of fits and starts, and that it was likely that we wouldn’t get to the end. Facilitator Kyle challenged everyone to avoid making apologies or getting down on themselves for things like going up on their lines, and they totally rose to that challenge.

Midway through the evening, the fire alarm sounded. As we left the room and gathered outside the building, I joked that we shouldn’t be surprised that this was happening — we’re working on Macbeth, after all, which is famously thought to be cursed. That said, it wasn’t a terribly long interruption, and, when we returned to the auditorium with the alarm still sounding (but an assurance that there wasn’t an actual fire), we gathered in the back of the house to touch base. We all were feeling good, and several people said that all we really needed to do was to “get used to it.” I agreed, encouraged them to have more fun (particularly our Porter!), and to work over the next couple of weeks to “take the air out” of scenes and monologues: to avoid long pauses for no reason, and to keep the action moving forward.

The rest of the work-through went well, if slowly. We had to stop when we finished Act IV scene i, but we left feeling pretty good about where we were.
 

Friday
 

Written by Matt

The main thing that everyone could agree on today was that it was hot! A few of the women who came in early indicated that we might be missing our Lady Macbeth and at least one other who were on visits. Our Macbeth came rushing in to tell us that she was being called back to her unit and might not return that evening. One of our new members, who has thrown herself enthusiastically into the role of Second Witch, revealed that she had had some painful healthcare-related procedures that made it hard to speak or even smile. We sent her back to her unit to rest after she started laughing at a joke and then doubled over from the pain.

Missing our two leads and many of the other characters who appear in so many scenes in this play, we had to come up with a strategy for the evening. First, we discovered that it was a little cooler in the classroom where we usually meet on Fridays. After moving in there, we set to work on a few scenes that needed work and did not include our leads.

Act III, scene iii was an obvious choice. Three murderers (who, in our staging, also appear to be the witches…) kill Banquo and attempt to kill his son, Fleance. It is a short scene, but heavy on logistics, with a lot of movement and quick bursts of dialogue, as well as the violence itself. After stumbling through, we talked a bit about what the scene needed and was lacking. One member who is especially good with movement had some suggestions, and the small size of today’s group allowed a few of the newer, quieter members to take a stronger role in figuring out how to stage the scene. A small group of women worked their way through the meanings of a couple of tough lines to get them perfect.

We took some time also to work through Act IV, scene ii, another with the murderers carrying out Macbeth’s impetuous orders. In this case, it is Lady Macduff and her son who are victims. After stumbling through once, a facilitator asked what relationship Lady Macduff and the son were establishing in their dialogue. The dialogue is famously difficult to interpret, both morbid and light-hearted, and the writing leaves the son’s age almost entirely open to interpretation.

“I feel like she’s being cute about this terrible news to soften the blow,” offered a new member.

“No,” said Lady Macduff firmly. “He’s dead to me. I’m angry. I’m angry at him for abandoning me, and I want my son to grow up quick.”

After going back through the middle of the scene with anger in mind, a new and interesting character emerged from Lady Macduff--both stronger on the surface and, paradoxically, more fragile underneath. Everyone was spellbound. The facilitator who had started the discussion applauded our Lady Macduff for her bold choice, and suggested that she find a few moments to soften the anger a bit. A final run of the scene landed perfectly.

Our Macduff, who had needed to leave, returned, and we went right into the next scene: Act IV, scene iii, which is a long conversation between Macduff and Malcolm. We have rehearsed this scene many times, but it is a protracted and difficult scene to stage. It is little more than two characters standing and speaking, and it often drags even in professional productions of the play. The women in the scene were getting tripped up over lines, so they opted to hold scripts to be able to get through it. They moved well through the rest of the scene, but--even with our cuts--it was still a slog, taking almost twenty-five minutes from beginning to end. And the low light of late evening was cooking the room even more than before. By the time they walked off, both women were spent, and we all agreed to move on. Sometimes, even this close to the performance date, a scene falls apart, and we just need to leave it behind and work on something else. The ability to do that without losing focus is as valuable a skill as any in this process.

We talked through a couple of minor logistical details--our Banquo came up with the idea that, on her character’s death, the murderers should rip her “team Macbeth” badge off and take it to show Macbeth in the next scene. But by eight o’clock so many people either had to go or felt completely enervated that we decided to call it a day. The women who were present looked frustrated with the slow pace of work and the many absences, but we managed to maintain a modicum of good humor and morale throughout, and we left with high hopes for the first dress rehearsal on Tuesday.

Season Seven: Week 37

Tuesday

Written by Matt
 
Despite facilitators arriving at the auditorium a bit late, we were able to start on time, and people were ready to go! Before we started to stumble through the second half of the play, though, an ensemble member shared about a really difficult situation in her family that has been weighing on her. Everyone was attentive and vocal in their support for her, and even though she waved away hugs and outstretched hands, she made it clear that the group’s openness, cohesion, and safety was key to getting through this tough part of her life. “I’m not usually this open,” she said to the circled ensemble, “but I feel supported enough here to say what I feel.”

“Well,” said a longtime member, “I don’t know if this makes you feel better, but I also had something terrible happen. I tripped. Over the floor.”

“Wait, you tripped over what?” asked the first woman.

“The floor. There wasn’t nothing there. And it was in front of an officer and everyone.”

Her levity had the desired effect: the group fell to laughing and trading strategies for recovering from embarrassing stumbles.

“That didn’t make me feel any better,” the woman who first shared said between bouts of laughter. “But it sure gave me something to laugh about, and I needed that.”

With that, we lowered the ring and set our minds to Macbeth.

The first few scenes did not go smoothly. In part because everyone was distracted by trying to remember their lines—it was our first day off book—and in part because the first few scenes of the second half of the play are complicated and long, we got off to a rocky start. We stopped frequently to rehash blocking or try to remember who entered or exited where. The first scene we worked today, the banquet scene (III.iv), has been rehearsed many times already, but often without all of the key actors present. So by the time we finished, everyone was frustrated. The actors in smaller roles, who are onstage all scene, were tired of having to repeat the same actions and reactions while others stumbled over lines. The leads were confused about blocking and extremely hard on themselves for forgetting or mixing up their lines. Those of us in the audience were restless and mostly wanted the process to just move on. But as so often happens, a couple of the women came forward to push the scene forward, leading by example. The process still took a long time, but they got each other through it, and we marked that scene for intensive work in the future.

The next scene was only slightly easier. Act IV Scene i is long, involving the three witches (“Double, double, toil and trouble!”), long speeches by Macbeth, and a coda after the witches leave that sets us up for the roller-coaster of the final two acts. No one knew where to go or how to move, and the actors spent almost as much time chastising themselves for missing cues and lines as they did acting out the roles. This is a frequent issue with all amateur actors, not just with our ensemble members, and it has been a minor problem in the past. Today was especially rough: our group this year is led by several perfectionists. This has been a boon to us all season long, but it can also prove challenging—our leads are so concerned with “doing it right” that they sometimes don’t quite get to just “doing it.” After we finally finished IV.i, several women, including our Macbeth, retreated to the wings, castigating themselves harshly for their perceived failures—for letting the group down, for letting themselves down—and the rehearsal ground to a halt.

In the end, it was a facilitator who intervened to help us forward. In a short speech, he said that there was entirely too much shame being felt about lines. “This is our first day off book,” he said. “It’s going to be rough.” He reminded everyone that no one was going to judge them, that we all forget our lines sometimes, and that the first day off book is always challenging, even in professional theatre. We had a student facilitator on book, he reminded us, and all anyone needed to do was call “line,” and move on. No problem. After a minute, we moved on to the next scene. A lot of what we do in Shakespeare in Prison is to foster a space in which our ensemble members can solve problems on their own without fear of judgement, reprisal, or resentment. Sometimes, though, it is just as important for a facilitator to step in strongly and set us on the right path. Having facilitators who know when to take this step—and, more often, when not to—is central to the success of SIP.

The success of this brief reminder was, if not magical, at least marked. As we moved into the long scene of Lady Macduff’s murder and, even longer, Macduff’s attempt to recruit Malcolm, we faced some challenges, but excessive self-flagellation about lines was not one of them. One of the witches (who also plays the hired assassin who kills Lady Macduff and her son) brought up the issue of staging a child’s murder with appropriate sensitivity, given our audience. We tabled this conversation for another day, but her point resonated with several people.

Moving into Act V, our Lady Macbeth was distracted. She had been offstage for more than an hour, and had to make the transition—difficult for any actor—into embodying Lady Macbeth’s madness. She had been especially frustrated with herself earlier for missing her lines, and she was distracted by something on the small handheld device that prisoners have. But when her cue to go onstage came, something in her clicked. She dropped the device and turned to our Macbeth, asking her to “drop in,” or read her lines to her softly so that she could say them without holding her script or relying on memory. The effect was mesmerizing. Freed from her script and from the need to strain to recall the words, she created a chilling performance. Our Macbeth was so unobtrusive that a few people didn’t realize that anything was unusual about the scene until it was mostly done.

The rest of Act V was a mess, but it was a fun mess. The transitions from scene to scene, which come quickly, made for utter chaos, but we were determined to finish the session and finish it well. Everyone came together for the final push to the end, and we wrapped with a few minutes to spare.

Friday

Written by Kyle

Friday night went well, all in all, but it was very difficult to really move forward the way we needed. The attendance just was not there tonight; although we were able to take a deeper dive on the scenes we could, we didn’t quite get through the volume of scenes that we had hoped. We started with the re-staging of Lady Macduff’s murder — the scene where the text calls for a child to be killed on stage. It can be a hot-button issue, and, although it hadn’t been up until tonight, it had seemed to come to a head. We began to debate the impact of the scene, and many members wanted to be sensitive to what could be triggering to the ensemble and the audience. Everyone made good points; however, I could feel the edges of our ensemble start to fray the longer we debated. We just weren’t going to get anywhere by talking about it further. We needed to get it up on its feet. Luckily, we were able to work in the auditorium that night, so we moved over there, and then we got down to business. Ultimately, we were able to achieve the best of both worlds: we kept the severity of the scene, without being too explicit. All of the characters are on stage, and, just before any violence occurs, the primary characters disappear behind the curtain to finish the scene with sound effects. It’s effective, yet sensitive to all who may be enjoying the show. It was difficult for the actors, as it required a nuance in timing that was new to some of our ensemble members. They were able to get it, but it took a couple of tries, which I think was both frustrating and satisfying for the ensemble. Frustrating to work the same five seconds of stage time over and again, but satisfying when we all shouted, “Got it!”

After that, the officers were very gracious in letting us use an additional empty room so we could “divide and conquer” a bit with other scenes. Facilitators Matt and Lauren stayed in the auditorium to work on Act IV scene ii, the famous “Double double, toil and trouble” scene, particularly the part when the witches summon the apparitions. Although the women knew their objectives and lines well enough, there were enough logistical staging issues that needed some work, and we were glad to give it some attention. While that was happening, I was able to work with our Macduff and Malcolm on their scene. We made some much needed cuts, and tried to whittle away all that wasn’t working with the actors. We started by just having the actors sit across one another and trying to maintain eye contact: no blocking, no props or staging, just trying to connect to one another with the text. With the deadline of the show looming large, it was easier said than done. They took to it, though, and I think it working in a small group allowed the women to take some acting risks they may not have otherwise. It also allowed them to clarify the meaning of select passages without feeling embarrassed.  We finished working the scene, and I think that it really came a long way.

We finished the night working a scene that has been pared down to just me and one other ensemble member. We tried a staging idea from a while ago that we never got to see through. This is the scene when two lords have a secret discussion about a growing rebellion against Macbeth. We tried having someone,unrelated to the scene walk by, forcing us to stop talking and “act normal.” This was met with laughs of identification, and the group loved the addition. It was a great way to end the night, and we put the ring up with a firm resolution to hit the ground running on Tuesday.

Season Seven: Week 36

Tuesday
 

We arrived a few minutes late today, and only a few people were present. We’d agreed last week to use every possible moment, so I encouraged them to begin working on what they could, mainly running the fights and their lines. Ensemble members continued to trickle in, and, while we were not working together on one task, when I looked around the room a half hour into our session, everyone was at work in small groups.

The woman playing Banquo pulled me aside to ask about a speech of hers that includes a lot of commas. She said that she wasn’t sure how to work with that punctuation, and that she thought she was doing it wrong. Before I explained anything, I asked her to give it a read so I could hear where she was at. And it was perfect; her delivery is nearly always perfect. She was surprised to hear that. “You’re really good at this,” I said. “You don’t know that?” She shook her head, a look of disbelief mingling with the beginnings of delight. “You are naturally good at working with Shakespeare,” I continued. “Most actors have to be trained to do what you’ve been able to do since day one. You are really good at this, and you should not be afraid to own that. You know I don’t bullshit about acting; it’s at the core of what I do, and it’s too important to me to bullshit about it. You are very good at this, and you should have absolute confidence in yourself to do it right.” She smiled and thanked me. I can’t say for sure that she’s never been told anything like that, but I certainly got the impression that, if she has, it hasn’t been often.

A couple of staff members came into the room and beckoned to me. One of them has seen the backdrops for our show as they’ve been in the process of being painted. (One of our ensemble members designed the core element based on our interpretation of the play, and it’s being supplemented with other complementary images.) Ensemble members who’ve seen the work in progress have been effusive, and this staff member was no different. He encouraged me to let him know whenever he could help us out with sets and props; that he’s seen the positive results of our program and wants to do whatever he can to support that. Having this kind of enthusiasm from staff is huge; it legitimizes the work we do and helps us continue to engage with staff in increasingly positive and constructive ways.

A couple of ensemble members quietly expressed frustration to me about the number of people who continue to arrive very late and/or leave very early. Some folks have given us a heads up on legitimate reasons for that to happen occasionally, or even regularly with our approval, but others give the impression of flaking or not taking things seriously, and that’s frustrating to those who do.

That was a side conversation, but then a few others began venting their frustrations about the exact same thing, so we decided to take a few minutes and have a group discussion. One woman in particular went on a heated but eloquent rant about how angry this makes her, especially given that she has taken on (and is beautifully executing) a very large role on top of a heavy work schedule and other issues in her personal life. She feels that if she can buckle down and make this happen, others should be able to do so as well. What she said was the most articulate explanation I’ve heard yet about the importance of consistent attendance, so much so that we all applauded, and I asked her to write it down so we’d be able to use it in the future.

I also encouraged her to express all of this to the group at large, since she (rightly) didn’t name any individuals, but what she said mostly applied to folks who weren’t there (which was part of the issue). Another woman, though, said she thought it would be better to talk with each person directly. She said that if we were able to stick to the facts and leave our emotions out of it — being very careful about choosing our words — they would likely be receptive and better understand how their actions are hurting the group. There were many nods of agreement, and we decided to consider how best to do this.

Another woman began sharing some suggestions, at which point (I can’t remember the impetus for this), our Lady Macbeth launched casually into her first soliloquy (which is off book), drowning out the other’s comments, and breaking the tension as we dissolved into laughter. Then a woman who hadn’t been there (for a legitimate, pre-approved reason), and whom we’d all expected to be absent for the entire session, walked in to actual cheering from the entire group. She has rearranged her weekly visits so she can be at all of our rehearsals, and it’s an enormous, greatly appreciated sacrifice. “I feel like everybody that walks through that door gets a handclap,” said one woman.

We’ll figure out what the policy should be in the future when we get there, but the pressing issue was how we should deal with this right now. We determined that we needed to figure out how many people really should be removed due to excessive absences, and we decided to put in place a system of understudies. I talked that through briefly with a woman who volunteered to coordinate that, and then I went to check with staff about whether anyone should be removed. It turned out that, as I suspected, a couple of people had absences in excess of what’s allowed, so I was able to return to the group and help solidify who would take on those roles.

The woman who is in charge of our master script dove deeper into her task tonight, gathering more of the cues she needs to be aware of and gaining confidence in asking for and recording that information. She’s been in the group for several years but has taken on a somewhat passive role for the most part, although she volunteered for and is doing great work with two roles in this play. This offstage role, though, appears to be the most impactful yet. “I actually feel like I’m part of the ensemble,” she said to me with a smile. Of course, she’s always been part of the ensemble — and, at least in my view, an important one — but the fact that she finally feels herself that she has a purpose in the group is a fantastic development.

We continued to work specific scenes, and our Porter was eager to do her monologue (which, you may recall, she has drastically rewritten), but I kept being pulled aside, and other scenes continued to take the stage. When I finally made my way closer, she turned to me and emphatically said, “We’re not leavin’ out of here until I do my monologue for you.”

And when she did, it was just awesome. She’s mixing contemporary language and ideas with the originals, and it’s hilarious. This approach has also freed her up to dive deeper into the comedy, which we feel is far more important than preserving the original text. At one point, for example, she shrugged her shoulders, grumbling, “What do I know? I’m just a porter at hell’s gate.”

I also want to note that I spoke with another prisoner who is not in our ensemble, but who expressed her enthusiasm for the program and said there was no way she was missing the show; she’s seen the last few and absolutely loved them. “I was never into Shakespeare before — I didn’t even really know about it till I got here,” she said. She’s being paroled soon, and she told me she’s planning on finding local theatres as soon as she does; she just loves theatre now. “I’m really looking to seeing more when I get home,” she said. “This is something new, that I didn’t know was a part of me, that I’m so excited to explore.”

Of course the impact that is most visible to us is that which takes place within the ensemble, but we are also always on the lookout for evidence of the ripple effect we know exists as a result of our ensemble members’ work. And this exchange makes clear the way arts programming can shift and change the attitudes even of people who experience it simply as an audience, and how that has the potential to impact the prison’s culture for everyone.

Friday
 

After a brief check-in, we got everything prepped for our first work-through of the play. We reminded each other that, while the goal was to stop as little as possible, there would be times when we’d need to hold to figure things out; likewise, that if a scene was really a mess, we would take a note to fix it later rather than holding up this part of the process.

The woman who’s been in a director role recently took on a couple of characters that had belonged to those who were just removed from the group. She has made great contributions all along, and she’s always been honest about, and open to being accountable for, being “a little bit of a control freak.” As we got into place for the top of the show, she stood up and briefly addressed the ensemble. “I just want to say something really quick, because this is my first time actually doing something in the show,” she said. “Because I’m bossy and critical and controlling, please feel free to be the same way with me. Please be honest, because I respect each and every one of you, and I want your opinions. And if I disagree, I will respectfully tell you.” I don’t think anyone has had a problem with her at any point, because she always owns this aspect of herself, but I’m glad she welcomed us to work with her this way. I imagine there were at least a couple of people who would have been nervous to critique her if she hadn’t.

We started off strong with our witches, all of whom are just about off book. As we moved through the second scene, our Banquo (who is also very close to being off book) got stuck on some of her lines, shook her head, apologized, and grabbed her script to look at that page. “You got it!” a number of us said, with one woman joking, “Just don’t do it again!”

Of course we have a lot of work to do, but there were some really beautiful moments, and I’m not even talking about the performances. Though this is a stressful time, there was a warm, encouraging energy in the room that lent itself to cracking jokes about mistakes instead of beating ourselves up. At one point, our Macbeth launched into a speech — “I do forget…” — she trailed off — “... my lines,” she finished, getting a big laugh from the rest of us. When we came to a scene with a messenger who hadn’t been cast, one woman jumped in without hesitation, not just for the moment, but for the long haul.

We knew that our Porter would be late, but we’d also all agreed previously that we weren’t going to stop the work-through for anyone. Just as we arrived at that scene, as one person rose to fill in, our Porter walked in the door, a little out of breath; she’d rushed from her other obligation to get there as fast as she could. A cheer broke out, and, pausing only long enough to throw her coat over a chair, she jumped right in. Apparently, we never made sure that the entire ensemble knew about the way in which she’s rewritten her monologue, and there was a little confusion as some tried to follow along. Toward the end, one woman gently interrupted, “Where are we?” Our Porter paused, said, “We’re back on script after this. I’m freestyling here,” and went right back to her speech. She is SO comfortable and confident now — a far cry from her first attempt at this several months ago. It’s incredibly exciting for all of us.

We arrived at the scene in which the murder of Duncan is discovered. We hadn’t worked it in quite a bit, there are new cuts that not everyone knew about, and it began to fall apart immediately. Our Lady Macbeth, who is seldom short of enthusiasm, kept the scene going anyway, albeit not exactly in the way it was intended. With over-dramatic facial expressions, pumping her open hands up and down, she sarcastically shouted, “WHAT! ALAS! IN OUR HOUSE?!” As we stared at her, a little taken aback, she looked around at all of us, smiled, and said, “I sold it.” Cue laughter. Our Banquo had, during this, been figuring out a cue of hers that had been changed; she found her way back to the scene and restarted it, saying dryly, “All right, murder in our house, you sold it.” And we moved on.

Despite lingering tension about focus and attendance, the ensemble banded together to problem-solve and collaborate, scene by scene. The Keeper of the Master Script paid close attention throughout, writing down every entrance, exit, and cue that seemed necessary to record. Not everyone realized that she was just getting a lot of this information now, and some began to get impatient when she couldn’t give them information they needed. She mentioned this to me quietly. I encouraged her not to take it personally, and to let them know the actual situation. She did so, calmly but firmly, and all were receptive and understanding.

We got to another scene that included an unassigned messenger. Kyle jokingly volunteered one woman; I simultaneously volunteered another; but a third woman spoke loudly and forcefully right over us, saying, “No! [Porter]!” She then nabbed that woman and began to guide her through the scene, again telling all of us, “This one’s [Porter].” And our Porter, who, again, has found so much of this so challenging, was totally game, not hesitating for a moment. “I’m gonna write this in your book,” said the woman who’d volunteered her as she talked her through the blocking. Then, within the scene, our Porter saluted Macbeth before she exited, which was so weird and funny that we actually had to pause the scene to laugh and compliment her. As the woman who’d encouraged her sat down beside me, saying that she wanted our Porter to take on some of the other messengers and servants, I told her that I thought that would be fine as long as she doesn’t get overwhelmed, as she did some time back. But this woman smiled broadly, saying, “She’s okay now.” And she’s right. She totally is.

We got halfway through the play, which I think is unprecedented in SIP history! It’s generally been my experience in theatre on the outside that the first work-through takes about twice as long as the play will actually run, but it’s always taken longer on the inside. Not tonight — we need our play to run no longer than 90 minutes, and that is how long we spent on the first half. So, as I said to the ensemble as we wrapped up, it’s a mess at this point — but it’s a really good mess. There is a ton of great work happening, both on and off stage. We just need to keep our focus and momentum. We’re in a great place.

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.