Season Eight: Week 33

“Who wants to think about life before Shakespeare?”

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Tuesday / April 23/ 2019
Written by Frannie

After a longer-than-usual check in, we got rolling with Act III, scene i. It’s been a little while since we’ve worked on it, and we needed to flip some of the blocking to accommodate other changes we’ve made, but it mostly held up! This was Matt’s first time through the scene (he’s playing Feste now), and the zannis (newly empowered and energized from their recent breakthroughs!) guided him through, discovering new shtick along the way.

The actors had high energy and were committed to what they were doing, even when they butted heads a little on how to handle certain lines of dialogue. This is the time of year when people’s nerves start to fray a bit, and tensions can rise, but it didn’t seem like anything was about to boil over—or even close to it. Still, our collaborative staging process was more stilted than usual, and we had to power through unusual frustration.

But that led to some great discoveries. Viola suddenly stopped mid-scene and said, “This don’t feel right.” I asked her what she meant. “I feel like after my conversation with Orsino, I’m just jealous of [Olivia].” She and our new Orsino had stumbled on a new, more intimate way of approaching the scene that immediately precedes this (see Friday’s blog), and it necessarily altered Viola’s view of this one. “Roll with that,” I advised. “Don’t lock yourself into what you settled on before if your instincts are telling you to try something new.”

She took it back to Sir Toby’s entrance, which had really started to irk her (as her character… mostly... ). “I think I’ll go with the Maria tactic—put him in a box!” she said. Our Maria poked her head out from backstage and said, “Uh, that was Sir Toby’s tactic!” This is a very important element of our interpretation—Maria starts the ball rolling on the revenge plot but ultimately loses control of it—and it was good to be reminded of that!

We took it back to the top of the scene, and everyone made an even fuller commitment to what they were doing. When Viola gave Feste some money, Matt gleefully handed it off to one zanni, who tossed it to the next, who pocketed it. When he made a good joke, Matt high-fived each zanni in turn—except for Zanni #3, who pouted at having been left out. Then, as they exited in a receiving line of handshakes with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, they got caught up in shaking each other’s hands—and Zanni #3 refused to shake hands with Feste. But he started it!

Our Olivia stepped up her game in a big way today, relentlessly pursuing Viola/Cesario, refusing to allow for any personal space, and alternating between peppiness and pissiness. Her increased energy allowed us to do some detail work on the “chase” she gives Viola/Cesario, including finding a very poignant ending to the scene.

There is more work to be done, but we’re looking good.

Season Eight: Week 32

“I don’t know where I would be right now without this group.”

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Tuesday / April 16 / 2019
Written by Frannie

As promised, I brought in some blocking I had written for Act II, scene iii, the scene that tripped us up quite a bit last week. As people trickled in, I handed my notepad to our resident “director” and said, “I just thought, as one director to another, you might like to see how I did this.” After spending a few minutes intently perusing the notes and “floor plans,” she looked up at me and said, “Isn’t it crazy that I know exactly what this means, even in your crazy shorthand?” I grinned and replied, “It’s not crazy at all. You’re a really good director, and we’ve been working together for a long time. Of course you get it.” She smiled and then returned to the notes.

It was revealed at check-in that our Orsino will no longer be able to participate in SIP. We’re just about at the point in the season when facilitators start picking up the slack if/when members drop, but Matt is already understudying (and possibly playing) Feste, and I’d like to hold myself in reserve in case someone needs to fill in when it’s really crunch time. So… what to do?

Our backstage crew and zannis did not want to take on the part, and I don’t blame them—they’re still getting comfortable and are making awesome contributions in their current roles (plus, one agreed to give Feste a go tonight). That said, one member asked another why she wasn’t Orsino. “Um…” the latter member said before the former teased, “Because you know you can’t fill [the previous Orsino’s] shoes!” The other member playfully snapped her fingers at her as the rest of us laughed. Everyone else is carrying major roles, though—Twelfth Night is a true ensemble piece—and we mulled over the logistics for a few minutes.

Suddenly, our Maria asked, “Do Maria and Orsino overlap at all? Are they ever on stage at the same time?” “... I don’t think so,” I replied, and another ensemble member slowly took an Arden edition, which includes a chart showing the characters in each scene, out of “the Shakespeare box.” After looking over the chart carefully, she confirmed that they do not. “Interesting…” said a veteran member. “That’s very interesting…” said another vet, barely containing a huge smile.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” said our Maria, and we burst into applause. “I’m really gonna try,” she continued, mildly panicked but more determined. “I’ll do my best. I don’t wanna let you guys down. If I suck horribly, let me know.” As the others fiercely shook their heads, I said, “You will not suck horribly. You’re taking on something that terrifies you for the good of the whole group. There’s no way you can let us down. There’s no way you can suck, even a little bit.” Blushing slightly, she said, “But you guys have to really help me, okay? I think I got a really good grasp on Maria’s stuff… I want everybody to be really on me about making these characters different. I want to approach these parts really differently.” Another woman, beaming, said, “You’re gonna do great.”

Maria voiced some trepidation about memorizing Orsino’s lines, and Matt pointed out that nearly all of them are in verse, and many are monologues—they’ll probably be quicker for her to memorize than Maria’s. Another woman said, “Speaking as someone who had, like, eight monologues last year, I can tell you: the monologues are MUCH easier to memorize than the dialogue.” Maria/Orsino nodded her head. She can do this.

We were still mid-check in, and one woman shared about some really exciting opportunities and recognition that are coming her way. She’s overwhelmed—it’s a lot at once, and nothing like this has ever happened to her before. Another member said, “That is awesome, [NAME]!” And another: “You can do it!” And another: “My daughter will be so J.” A woman who is serving a very long sentence said, “I’m about to cry… You are a big deal… It takes a lot to sit in this prison, and to stay focused and work so hard on something you love, and to see things pay off—because you deserve it!… Look at what you accomplished! Girrrrllll!”

The members who are in the scene gathered on and off stage to begin walking through the blocking I’d come up with, and the others gathered in the house, where they stayed actively involved the entire session. This is a different approach for us—blocking is usually collaborative, and I rarely come in with anything fully prepared to stage—but it was enormously helpful in this case. My blocking took things they’d already been doing and relationships we’d established in our heads, but not on our feet, and simply made them more precise. It had been too difficult for me to articulate what was needed for the audience, and how to do this, but as soon as we launched into the work, things really started to gel.

The first bit of blocking—curtain opens on Toby sitting at a table, Andrew stumbles in and falls (her leitmotif), and THEN Toby says, “Approach, Sir Andrew!”—elicited chuckles and heightened energy right away. Our potential new Feste struggled a bit due to shyness and hesitation with the language, and the group rallied around her. “You’re doing so good!” and “This is your first scene, and you’re doing great,” said a couple of longtime members, and the newer members emphatically backed them up. “I feel like you are gonna do so well in this role,” said one. “It’s just like what you were doing as a zanni,” another woman helpfully said, “You’re just, like, the boss zanni now.” That clicked!

As we continued to roll through the scene, folks added their own touches to the actions I gave them. I asked Toby to do an awkward dance over to Maria while singing, suggesting that it should be “semi-seductive, but actually not seductive at all.” “Oh, I can do that,” she grinned—and she did. Our Maria said, “Oh my god, how am I gonna keep it together?” A longtime member replied, very dramatically, “It is the hardest thing in life to not laugh when someone is in your face.”

At another point, I had Toby do the same dance over to Malvolio, getting in her face—Malvolio then launches into a cartoon version of the Johnson Treatment, with Toby bending backward till she’s in a crab walk position, scooting backward as Malvolio continues to advance till they are nose-to-nose. It worked great, especially when Toby (who has amazing comedic instincts) shuffled her feet along the floor as if it were slippery. As we laughed, a longtime member said, “I love this rendition of The Matrix,” and another veteran said, “It’s like the black and white movies!” I laughed and said, “Yet again, you see inside my mind! Also,” I said, turning to Toby, “Your foot-acting is great.”

We got to the end and ran the entire scene—and it was so funny. Toby’s and Andrew’s exchange at the end had several of us almost literally rolling in the aisles, it was so natural and spot-on. “This is so good,” said one woman. “We’re gonna do this whole play, and this is the scene that’s gonna stick out to people.”

“Well, but we don’t want it to stick out that much,” I replied. “We need to use all this as a jumping-off point for the rest of the show so we’re consistent. So: what makes it work so well?”

“It makes the relationships clear,” said one woman, and we dug into that just a little bit more: it was the specificity of the movements and each person’s posture that contributed to that. “I’m really reserved at letting my full weirdness out,” said another woman, “but I feel like I’ve been in this ensemble with these people for long enough that I can just–” she paused, putting on the most eccentric expression and position she could “–let my FREAK FRAG FRY.” As giggles rippled through the group, I responded, “Let it FRY!”

A longtime member checked in with the woman who’d been “trying on” Feste. “I know I can do it,” the woman replied. “I just don’t feel like I’m ready to do it.” She explained that she really likes playing a zanni without the pressure of speaking lines, but she’s sure she’ll want to do more next season. She’ll work on it a little more this week, though, and let us know her decision on Friday.

One of the zannis, who’s been kind of frustrated, said she felt much better—that she could focus more on what she “should be doing.” (Which, for the record, was all about what she specifically did with my general “the zannis can definitely be super-judgy of everyone,” rather than the blocking itself.) A woman who’d participated from the audience volunteered that the pacing and space given for laugh lines worked “to give us time to enjoy it.” Another woman, who often has great “broad strokes” staging ideas, said, “This was a good way to show how to [demonstrate] what’s going on to the audience.”

Now that everyone understood what I meant about visually establishing relationships and plot, I encouraged them to do their own blocking ahead of time if they had ideas—it’ll make the rest of our work go much more quickly and support line memorization. “I’m happy to take on the more complicated scenes if you want me to,” I said, “but there’s no reason why I should be the one blocking the entire play. There are definitely people in here who can do this just as well as I can.”

So that’s the plan! To be continued...

Friday / April 19 / 2019
Written by Matt

Our new Orsino had a problem.

Avid blog-readers will remember that our Maria took over as Orsino--the first time we’ve cast one actor in two major roles!--which was A) really gutsy, and B) a totally epic, Ghostbusters-style, Superbowl-winning-interception-level, Game-of-Thrones-spoiler-that-has-to-do-with-Arya-Stark-type of saving the day. If there is anyone the entire group can trust to pull off the Maria/Orsino feat, it is this woman. But when she came in today, she had a list of potential issues:

First, she looked over all of Orsino’s lines and didn’t find any cuts, so she’ll have to memorize all of them. Second, while she was looking over Orsino’s lines, she happened to get off-book for Act I (did I mention we can trust her?). Third, she told us that she really wanted her Orsino and Maria characters to be different from each other, and that she’d be relying on the ensemble to keep her honest about that. Finally, she realized that, although Orsino and Maria are never in the same scene together, one of them is often entering while the other is exiting. She made a list of all of the scenes, but didn’t bother reading it. “It’s literally all of Acts One and Two,” she said. “And some of Act Four.”

We brainstormed ideas for a minute or two (Could we arrange for a quick-change costume? Could the zannis vamp for a minute while she changes?), but ultimately we decided that we’d find a way around it, which seemed to put her at ease.

As soon as she expressed her relief and we were ready to move on, though, a veteran turned to her and said, “I just think it’s amazing that you stepped up. That you think these things up and come up with with a way to make it work. You just find ways to get it done. It’s amazing.” Another chimed in: “It’s just so cool that someone so new is stepping up--has this level of dedication.”

Our Maria/Orsino replied with words that had clearly been building up in her for some time. She spoke so eloquently, directly...and quickly (!) that neither Emma nor I got the whole quote. Here’s the best Frankenquote I could pull together:

I mean, thank you. I really can’t put into words what this does for me. This group is just-- I have no idea what it has done for me or why. I don’t know where I would be right now without this group. I’m a really shy person. [After I said I’d play Orsino], I went back to my room and was, like, “Why did I just volunteer to do that?” And, honestly, I don’t know, but this group has given me-- a lot.

Well, that made a bunch of us feel things, but there was no time for that! We had a small group tonight (lots of people were sick), but we had good focus, so we did a quick warm-up and forged ahead!

As luck (or Fate!!) would have it, the next scene we had to work was Act II scene iv, starring… our new Orsino! The first order of business, she decided, was to have Viola bring her up to speed on the scene. As those two disappeared backstage for a few minutes to talk out the scene, the rest of us reflected on the fact that this was our third Orsino. This is the sort of chaos that always finds its way into a season of SIP, but everyone agreed that we had no concerns about this current iteration!

The moment Orsino strode out on stage, it was clear how much work she had done. Her Orsino was big and bold--totally different from her Maria. She spoke more slowly and clearly, and brought a big stage presence (a little bombastic, a little preacherly) that was both distinct and hilarious.

When I asked her how it went, she turned to Viola and asked her what she thought. “I felt like we had a conversation,” said our Viola encouragingly. A few of the women gave a few pointers and walked through some basic blocking.

We’ve wanted to find moments in this comedy to connect with the audience’s emotions, and this is one of those scenes. Viola and Orsino have a conversation that is funny but also vulnerable and poignant, and we’ve always wanted to make sure that it lands properly. We ran their dialogue a few times, stopping to adjust and tweak periodically. What we ended up with was a magical bit of connection onstage.

Viola, as she is trying to tell Orsino that women love as deeply and strongly as men do, speaks the truth by using clever words and double meanings. Our Viola instinctively crossed away from Orsino as she gave this speech, unable to look directly at him as she tried to find a way to say what she felt without giving her disguise away. At an ensemble member’s suggestion, Orsino followed Viola on that cross. When Viola turned back to connect with Orsino, on her line, “Was not this love, indeed?” she caught both of them by surprise.

Before, Orsino had been stuck twenty feet away at center stage, and the space between them had made Viola’s gaze feel like a futile attempt at connection. This time, the look they shared was intimate--and uncomfortable. Viola stalled in the middle of the line, caught out by the intensity of the connection between them. Orsino froze, then used the next line to break eye contact and cross away to a safer distance. It was a beautiful moment of human connection between those characters, built up by the hard work of the women onstage--and the ones watching and helping out.

We ran the scene again from the beginning, building to that moment again. And… it worked! Sometimes those moments of connection in rehearsal are fleeting and fragile and impossible to repeat, but this one was just as good, and maybe even better. At the end, everyone jumped to their feet to give a standing ovation. “Yeah! Just like that!” shouted one of the women. “That’s how you do it!”

The next scene (also starring Orsino/Maria, but this time in her lady-in-waiting/barmaid/schemer mode) is mostly just silly. Act II scene v consists mostly of Malvolio fantasizing about all the things he’d do to Sir Toby if he had power, finding the forged letter Maria left for him, and reading that letter. We’ve worked this scene before, though not for a while, so it took a few minutes to warm up.

It’s a loooooong scene, and it mostly rides on Malvolio’s energy. Fortunately, our Malvolio came out of the gate full of energy and imagination, which gave the others plenty to work with. She acted out her hoped-for abuses of Toby, she enlisted the audience’s help understanding the mysterious letter, and she strutted her stuff at the conclusion, as she fell for the plot. Meanwhile, Fabian and Sirs Toby and Andrew giggled and snooped and got enraged. They nearly got caught as they were hiding behind trees--at one point, Fabian tickled Malvolio with a branch!

In the end, we decided that someone needed to go ahead and block the scene to help tell the story. A couple of the women volunteered. We put up the ring after a wonderful day with a lot of big victories!

Season Eight: Week 31

“Shakespeare is a catalyst.”

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Tuesday / April 9, 2019
Written by Emma

Facilitators were running on fumes as we circled up for check-in. The men’s ensemble had just completed four days of back-to-back performances, and earlier in the day the men had wrapped their season with an emotional final session. There was a good deal to share. Matt began, “Obviously, there are things that this (women’s) ensemble has taught me that the men’s ensemble couldn’t, but– ” He was interrupted by a returning member: “Be careful about what you’re gonna say, Matt!” With jokes out of the way, Matt went on to share some important takeaway lessons from the men’s season. The group listened intently, nodding along.

Together we raised the ring. After some much needed whooshing, the ensemble took their places to begin working. With rough blocking behind us, we had a loose game plan for the day: start from the top and see where things go.

Once situated, we were off! Shipwrecked zanni sailors stumbled down the aisles from the rear of the auditorium, picking imaginary kelp and small sea creatures out of one another’s hair. They were followed by a flustered Viola, delivering her lines without a script in her hands! She is an incredibly dedicated member, and the amount of time and effort she has been putting into learning her part was clear. This was among the first times this season that we’ve seen an actor completely off book—no small feat, with two months to go before performances. She and the Captain made their way to the front of the auditorium to finish the scene.

As soon as Viola and the Captain exited, Orsino unexpectedly burst through the curtain. She delivered her opening line with gusto—“If music be the food of love, play on!’—and launched us directly into the next scene. As she strutted across the stage, surrounded by the zanni posse (now acting as musicians), I realized something: she wasn’t reading from her script! Our Orsino had mentioned during check-in that she had been working on memorization (she described a “talent show” she put on in her unit that involved her reading lines), but this blew me out of the water! Her energy was infectious. The zannis, who in the previous scene were chuckling and not altogether in character, were now pulled in.

Without direction to do so, the ensemble moved on. Actors hopped out of the auditorium seats and made their way onstage, powering through their dialogue and blocking. Things were (of course) rough, but it was the first time this season when this many scenes were run back-to-back. And for every rough patch, there was a shining moment. Highlights included Malvolio maneuvering across the stage with a military stiffness that perfectly epitomized his uppity disposition, Maria deftly delivering her dialogue (yep, she’s off book, too!), and Sir Toby skillfully stumbling from point A to point B with a mug held high overhead.

We made it through almost the entire first act of the play before coming to a stop after some jumbled entrances and exits. “Did we plan to run nonstop like that?” Frannie asked the group. We, in fact, had not—it seemed the ensemble as a whole had known what it needed.

After the dust settled, we regrouped in the center section of the auditorium. We spent some time reflecting on some of the technical aspects of what happened—hammering out entrances and exits, discussing things that we did and didn’t like. “I feel like we need more of a connection—like, we could be more back and forth,” our Maria said to Sir Toby. The relationship between these two characters is simple on the surface—Maria as the quick-witted woman who keeps the goofy Sir Toby on his toes—but in practice, establishing this is more complicated. The actors discussed ways they can expand their relationship and communicate the subdued romance that lives there. It will be exciting to see where this is come June!

“How are the zannis doing?” a returning member then asked our posse. During the final scene we ran, the zannis were more or less wandering around the stage, not sure where they should go or how they should get there. One of them responded, “I still am not sure what’s going on, honestly.” A look of frustration crossed her face. Without missing a beat, another returning member replied, “What is it we can do as an ensemble to help you do better? Because we need you.” The zanni shared that the plot (which, for the record, is quite complicated) was confusing her. The group heard her concern and worked together to think of solutions. At no point was anyone made to feel “bad” for not understanding. To the contrary, other ensemble members offered words of encouragement. We agreed that we will spend some time clarifying the plot of the scenes, and that everyone should feel comfortable speaking up whenever they don’t understand something. By the end of our discussion, the zanni’s look of frustration had melted.

As we raised the ring, I reflected yet again on the supportive nature of this group. How we take care of one another; how we not only hear, but listen. I think this sentiment was best summed up by our Orsino: “It’s called Shakespeare, try some!”

Friday / April 12 / 2019
Written by Matt

We started today with Act II! After a (mostly) triumphant run of the first act, everybody felt that it was important to forge ahead. Today’s session was back in the classroom, which is fine, but makes it hard to fully “stage” some of the scenes. As luck would have it, Act II scene i is especially tough to do in the classroom because most of the action happens in the house aisles, not onstage.

This scene introduces Antonio and Sebastian, and we have had to approach it gently from the beginning, since both actors are shy--Antonio is especially shy and self-conscious. We decided to try having them walk in circles, since there was no aisle to walk down, and the first run was very rough as we all dusted off the cobwebs. One of the women said that the scene really needed “more urgency,” and we tried to figure out what the crucial moments were.

“I think Antonio gay or something,” said our Antonio. “He just following this guy around.”

“Does that give you any other ideas?” asked Frannie, after affirming that sometimes Antonio is played that way. Our Antonio shook her head. “But it changes your objective,” Frannie offered. “You need to be chasing her and trying to stop her and, ‘Won’t you pleeeeeaaase stay with me!’” said an ensemble member.

As for Sebastian, one of the women had a suggestion for her, as she is pursued by Antonio: “You’re ready to go to the bar, man! ‘I need to get a drink and get away from these problems!”

The second run was much better, and the beginnings of a scene were already apparent. “I was more aggressive,” said Antonio. Frannie suggested that Antonio “be a puppy,” and one of the women nodded vigorously, saying, “they cry and whine if you get too far away!”

The third run was good, but the two actors’ inhibitions still got the best of them. What happened next was a great example of SIP in action: the entire ensemble rushed in to help--not to tell them what to do, but to figure out what the ensemble needed to do to allow the actors to do what they need to do. “Does it confuse you guys when we give you directions?” asked a woman who had been active in giving notes. “I don’t know!” said Sebastian, “I don’t know how to cue [Antonio] to follow me.” Antonio chimed in: “I’m nervous.” The first woman asked if it would help for everyone to turn the other way so there weren’t so many eyes on her.

Was it the audience that was the problem? “Yes,” said Antonio. “I’m really shy. I’ve always been that way, since I was a little girl.” Another woman, who usually keeps pretty quiet offered, “I also notice that you hide behind your script,” but somehow said that without sounding remotely judgmental or critical. “Maybe you could lower it.” She suggested forgetting about saying all of the words in every line, maybe focusing more on the first couple of words and making eye contact with intent.

At that, a veteran member leapt up with an idea: “I’ll do you one better,” she said, and suggested that we play Yes/No. Everyone jumped to their feet to play the game, including facilitators--it was freeing for everyone, and Antonio found herself loosening up as we played, eventually running around the room and giving a full-body laugh that seemed to help her shed some of the self-consciousness that was binding her up. “That’s what I’m talking about!” exclaimed one of the women afterwards.

As we prepared to run the scene one last time, an ensemble member suggested, “If you screw up the lines, just start saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” The result was… perfect! Antonio seemed connected to Sebastian with a bungee cord, as she bounced in and out of Sebastian’s way. The lines moved faster and with more intention. As Sebastian tried to leave the space on her exit, Antonio chased her into a corner, unwilling to stay behind (not a solution for staging the scene, but a beautiful example of following her objective all the way through).

For the rest of the session, we tried to run the Act II scene iii. The result was less than satisfying. It’s a complicated scene, with a lot of visual storytelling and a couple of crucial plot points. Its jokes simply aren’t funny if you can’t follow it. Frannie admitted to being completely lost when we finished stumbling through. All sorts of people had all sorts of ideas, but Frannie suggested that it might help if she brought in rough blocking for the scene on Tuesday, which might help give form to the ideas we have about the scene—she was having trouble articulating what she meant about using blocking to make the relatinoships clear. Everyone seemed happy with that, so we put up the ring and went our ways.

Season Eight: Week 30

“There is one place where I feel safe: Shakespeare.”

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Tuesday / April 2 / 2019
Written by Emma

Today, rehearsal began before the facilitators even pulled up to the facility. Two of the women, a returning member and a newbie, had been outside taking in the first rays of spring sunshine when the returning member surprised the other with an unexpected proposition. According to the newbie, “She busted out her script and said, ‘You wanna read Shakespeare lines?’” The duo proceeded to run dialogue from one of the many scenes they share. These sneak-attack Shakespeare rehearsals seem to be a recurring thing amongst our ensembles, and I can’t say we disapprove.

During check-ins, a longtime member updated the group on an exciting theatre project she has in the works. “I am going to be totally in my element—and I found a way to use some Shakespeare English in there.” The group chuckled and wished her well as we snapped. As the snaps died down, a supportive first season member said, “For you, a second round of snaps!” And another well-deserved round of snaps was given.

After lowering the ring, we picked up with blocking Act V Scene 1, the show’s finale, which features everybody and their grandma. It is the perfect cherry on top of our kaleidoscope-themed production. Loose ends are tied up, but not without some general disarray first. This one is a doozy. We began working our way through, hammering out the scene’s multitude of entrances and exits.

One of said entrances is that of an intoxicated Sir Toby. I, for one, was not prepared for what our Sir Toby was about to unleash. She expertly stumbled onto the stage, a plastic travel mug full of coffee in her wobbly hand. Sir Toby has been steadily drinking throughout the play, so it follows that in this final scene he is but a drop away from unconsciousness—an image our Sir Toby skillfully pulled off. At one point she tumbled to the ground, spilling some of the coffee. Our Feste noticed and rushed out of the room to grab some paper towels. On her way back into the auditorium, she was followed by an officer who inquired if things were ok. After quickly seeing they were, he smiled and walked back out. When Feste went to dispose of the coffee-stained paper towels, the officer asked why she had seemed so intense when she had initially come out. “I’m an actress!” she told him. “What did you expect?”

This evening, our Orsino experimented with expression. A newer ensemble member, she has truly thrown herself into the program and the role. At one point in the scene, Orsino finds out his love Olivia is married to another man (and isn’t too happy about it). With some encouragement from Frannie, Orsino turned the dramatics up to 11 and literally huffed and puffed her way up and down the auditorium aisles, stomping and exclaiming her anger. Later on in the scene, Orsino is shocked to discover that Viola/Cesario has a twin. Again playing with drama, Orsino spontaneously collapsed into a heap when she laid eyes upon Sebastian. Laughter shot through the ensemble. After all, who doesn’t love a nice dramatic faint?

Tonight we also had the pleasure of seeing the debut of the priest character. A returning member, our Priest is the queen of nonchalance, and her interpretation of the role is going to reflect that: she will actually portray an actor who is a “slacker” and has to be manhandled into reading the lines, let alone acting the part. It was decided that when Olivia sends her attendant to find the Priest, the latter will be lounging on the floor with one leg jutting out from behind the curtain, munching on a snack. As the Priest stood up to take her place on stage she said under her breath, “I gotta get my Cheetos.” “Are you method acting?” Frannie responded. “I have to!” the Priest replied coolly through a guarded smile, knowing what the reaction would be: a huge burst of laughter from Frannie.

The lounging Priest shtick was funny in theory, but in practice it was hilarious. When a frazzled Olivia sent her attendant to find the Priest, the attendant rushed around the stage in a panic. Then, seeing the lone leg, the attendant took hold of the Priest’s foot and pulled her out of hiding, set her upright, and dusted off her shoulders in an effort to make her look presentable. Throughout this process, the Priest continued to snack on crackers and yawn. The overall effect was excellent—another testament to the incredible comedic instincts in the ensemble.

Working through Act V Scene 1 was not all laughs, however. At this point in the process, things begin to feel a bit like the Oregon Trail—a slow, laborious journey through lands unknown. Weeks of blocking had left the group in a fog. Ensemble members both old and new were floating around the auditorium, often not where they needed to be. Some of those who were in their places simply stood or leaned, disengaging from the scene and their characters. After multiple reminders weren’t heeded, Frannie calmly addressed the whole ensemble and explained how frustrating this is, and how we all need to be involved in this part of the process. After Frannie finished explaining, a long-time ensemble member said, “I admire you, Frannie.” The ensemble member went on to explain how impressive it is that Frannie is able to be both assertive and compassionate, able to get her point across and channel frustration in a constructive way. Ladies and gentlemen, our fearless leader!

We powered our way through the remainder of the scene. When 8:15pm rolled around, we were fatigued, but a major milestone had been reached: we had officially finished blocking the entire play! Together, we raised a ring to that.

---

EMBASSY BALL GOES HORRIBLY AWRY, SHOCKINGLY WELL

YPSILANTI, Mich., Apr. 5 -- This year’s Embassy Ball saw the heights of drama and the lows of, well, drama. The famous Ball is the fanciest party for the season’s most fabulous people. Tonight’s guests, strange to say, were all characters from Twelfth Night. Whether this was intentional or accidental, we may never know.

What we do know is that there was a dastardly plot laid by an unnamed caterer/valet/butler/revolutionary, which left all of Shakespeare’s already unhinged characters without an ounce of reason among them.

The Ball was graced by the likes of the morose Lady Olivia of Illyria and EXACT LOOK-ALIKE twins Viola and Sebastian from Messaline. Also present were a mopey pirate named Antonio, intolerable (and sillily-named) ne’er-do-wells Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, notoriously self-serious bartender and project manager Maria, a hunting enthusiast named Curio (a servant of Count Orsino, who skipped the Ball to write the second act of his emo rock opera), a mysterious man who appears in the second act out of nowhere and calls himself “Fabian,” and a priest—but he was too lazy to have much effect on the party, despite the protestations of his attentive assistant. There was also Feste, who mostly wanted money and to sing long, boring songs, a curtain-puller, and a DJ. And a group of incorrigible zannis… actually, no one was sure where the zannis came from--they’re not even in the play as written.

But the night was only just beginning. Before it was through, these unsuspecting (if not undeserving) guests had been ensnared in a diabolical plot.

No sooner had the last guest arrived at the Ball then the anonymous revolutionary/caterer served up a milkshake that had something more than ice cream in it… because after imbibing, each character became—how to describe this?—more herself. Curio’s desire to hunt grew into an obsession; Olivia’s sadness turned into a crushing depression, Maria’s neat-freak side turned her into a cleaning machine (and a huge buzzkill), Sir Andrew and Sir Toby began compulsively pulling pranks on others, and the priest sank into a torpor so profound he needed help feeding himself.

But still, it would not stop. The caterer brought out a serving of Jolly Ranchers laced with more of the mysterious substance, which sent each character into an even fuller, less inhibited expression of herself. The Jolly Ranchers were followed by vegan meatloaf muffins, which did not please the hunt-happy Curio, but which had an effect on all assembled that was, like the caterer herself, revolutionary. (And, happily for Curio, the caterer had some venison meatloaf muffins in reserve.)

Fabian stole Sir Andrew’s things, a sword fight broke out for no reason, Curio demonstrated how to trap a bear, Toby curled into the fetal position and shivered when the subject of his unpaid bar tab came up, and the zannis began arresting people.

Then, all at once, with the after-dinner mint, the fog of disinhibition that had invaded the Ball evaporated. Whatever devious chicanery or sabotage the caterer had intended did not come to pass. The worst Embassy Ball in a generation (or at least since the Hobbyhorse Incident during Richard III’s Ball) somehow ended without bloodshed, loss of limbs, or madness (well, except the zannis, but, again, no one could actually remember what they were doing there).

The plot was foiled. Or, we were left to ask ourselves as the guests averted their eyes and shuffled towards the exit, was this the plot all along?

The Embassy Ball Corp., LLC did not immediately respond to interview requests, but sources close to the organization say that the Ball Corporation’s event planner, booking coordinator, and hapless intern have been fired.

--

Embassy Ball, which one of our veterans called “Welcome to the Party,” is a Theatre of the Oppressed game in which people arrive at a party as a character and improvise as they are served successive doses of a “drug” that accentuates their personalities. At the end of the game, they are served the “antidote,” and return to the baseline of the character. The game has all sorts of versions and uses, but it is a good way to play around with your character, once you’ve been cast. At this point, even our newbies have a pretty good sense of who their character is, and Embassy Ball offers them a space to experiment without needing to memorize lines or blocking.

To be honest, many of the women were not thrilled about playing Embassy Ball. It is one of the complications of this season that we have a small group of members who love improv and a bunch of people who are really scared by it. Half of the ensemble initially tried to sit the game out, until Frannie made it clear that this game really couldn’t be optional—it is a safe, no-pressure way to learn more about your character, and we can’t afford to shy away from things like this so late in the season.

Eventually, just about everybody took part, and the result was described (in an admittedly silly way) above. As with all Theatre of the Oppressed games, the most important part was the debrief afterwards. There were all sorts of fun things that people did--Curio’s insistence on drinking a venison-flavored milkshake, the priest getting so lazy that he had to be force-fed--but a few of them seemed really important to the play:

• Sir Andrew realized that her character is totally myopic--so much so that he doesn’t actually understand anything else that’s happening in the play, or know who the other characters are.

• One of our backstage crew decided that she really wanted to micromanage the actors, which gave us all sorts of ideas for shtick.

• Our sound guy/DJ was just looking for anyone authorized to pay her.

• Fabian found that her character really “wanted to be where the action was.”

• One of the zannis said “I was everywhere! I was doing everything!” and really running the show.

Perhaps most importantly, our Olivia and Maria discovered their characters’ bond: they are the smartest people in Illyria, and they needed to cling together to keep from getting overwhelmed by the maelstrom of buffoonery that whirled around them.

After discussing, we played another, much sillier game: Talk Show. In this game, a “host” questions a “guest” on an imaginary TV interview show. Meanwhile, members of the ensemble shout out states of mind (distraught, confused, angry, evasive, philosophical, etc.), and the “guest” needs to assume that state of mind instantly as she continues answering questions. We gave it a twist--the same twist we gave Embassy Ball: the women had to play their Twelfth Night characters.

There were a lot of really funny moments, although most of them would suffer in retelling. We have some very talented improvisors, and they were absolutely in their element. Most of the shy ones stayed away, although our Olivia gave a command performance on “Teen Mom: The New Edition,” where she was interviewed by Viola.

In the end, Talk Show was more fun than substance. That’s fine sometimes, but it was also frustrating to watch so many people still sitting on the sidelines. Not everyone loves doing improv, and we don’t force anybody to do anything, but the challenge of this season has been that a small group of people has too often been carrying the weight for everybody else.

Next week, we’ll need to chalk up some “wins” to keep our momentum up.

Season Eight: Week 29

“You can’t steal my Shakespeare sunshine!”

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Tuesday / March 26 / 2019
Written by Coffey

Our session tonight began with a little dramaturgy. One of the women shared with the group the story of the Globe Theatre, one of the crazier Shakespearean anecdotes which goes something like this: When Shakespeare was a member of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, the company primarily did their work in a theater called simply “The Theater” in central London. The Theater was owned by some of the actors in the company, but the land the theater was on was only rented, and in around 1598 the lease was up. The landlord tried to lay claim to the building in addition to the land, but the Lord Chamberlain’s Men would not have that. Shakespeare and his fellow actors, dressed as soldiers, dismantled the entire theater, brick by brick, and moved it to a new piece of land. This retelling doesn’t have a modicum of the energy and color this woman’s retelling had. Her excitement and amusement were infectious.

Our Maria shared that she was getting ready to be off-book. “I need to get rid of the safety net, “ she said, “Because if it’s there I need to look.” Our Captain shared with the group that she is considering making her character female. “I just think we haven’t done it yet...and I want the outfit to be super cute.”

“Does the gender of the character matter?” Frannie asked. “I don’t think it does,” the woman replied. The group discussed the pros and cons of playing a man and whether changing the character’s gender would have any bearing on the play itself. Ultimately, the Captain decided on being female. “Alright. I’ll just do it.”

We spent most of the night working on Act IV, scene ii. Our new Feste was working through the scene for the first time, and the rest of the team really rose up to help her. Maria stayed with Feste, helping her mark her blocking and entrances. At one point during a run of the scene, Feste was upstaging herself. One woman, without saying a word or disrupting the scene at all, walked onto the stage and gently turned Feste towards the audience. The scene continued without missing a beat. When it came time for Feste to be both Feste and Sir Topas, the women helped her figure out ways to change her voice or her position on stage to make a distinction between the two characters. Feste grew more and more confident as the rehearsal went on and starting bringing her own ideas to the stage. With the space to explore and the support of her colleagues, Feste really started to take shape. It will be exciting to see how the character grows.

At the center (literally) of the scene is the room or cage in which poor Malvolio has been imprisoned by Sir Toby and Fabian. Staging this has been challenging in past sessions, as we couldn’t land on blocking ideas we were thrilled with. Tonight, however, we had a surge of creativity. Our Malvolio began playing with her positioning in the “prison box” and requested that the box be given a breakaway top. Matt advised her to give Malvolio an objective for the scene and to ask herself how Malvolio plans to escape his prison. With a top on the box and an objective for the scene, Malvolio began to move around the small space more “freely,” searching frantically for a door or crack in the wall. At one point she took off her shoe and started cradling it in her arms. When asked what she was doing, she announced that Malvolio had found a pet mouse in prison. “Like in Shawshank?” exclaimed one woman. “Yeah!” Malvolio replied. “Isn’t that The Green Mile?” asked another woman. “Listen, I know my prison movies,” said another member, “and there is no mouse in Shawshank.”

The addition of a top to the prison box ended up inspiring even more exciting ideas. Our Malvolio, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew collaborated on coming up with a hilarious bit in which Feste leaves the stage whistling “Pop Goes the Weasel”; hearing the song, Malvolio discovers her way out and shoots straight up, blowing the top off of the box with the song’s final “pop” before the curtain quickly closes. The sequence got better every time they ran it and never failed to get laughs from the house.

We ended the rehearsal satisfied with IV.ii, but in agreement that it could still use a megaphone, some extra fake beards on sticks, and some kazoos. The zany creativity is nowhere near over and the collaboration among the women is only getting stronger. Together they are creating one hilarious and smart piece of theatre.

Friday / March 29 / 2019
Written by Matt

Tonight was another divide-and-conquer session, so it was nice that we had all hands on deck! We had all the familiar faces with us tonight--actually, the only facilitator not there was Maria. And a good thing, too; there was lots to do.

The session opened with a major gesture: our Sir Toby had crafted a makeshift “feather-duster” for our Maria as a token of affection. Toby got down on one knee to present the gift, and Maria was ecstatic!

We spent the first part of today’s session talking through our props list, which has gotten a little bit out of control. We needed to know what our ensemble really needed to tell the story, rather than just having some funny ideas. We had some very clear “needs:”

-Inflatable palm trees

-Seaweed boas… AND feather boas!

-Inflatable emoji beach balls

-A life-size cardboard cut-out of Fabio (diligent readers of the blog will be familiar)

-Lots and lots of kazoos

-A cookie (for throwing)

-Lots of other goofy things.

We were willing to give up seagull puppets and toy boats for the first scene because there’s already plenty going on. Somehow, we couldn’t even remember what two of our prop ideas were about: a hot dog with relish (???) and a prosthetic arm (?!?!?!).

Meanwhile, Lauren was helping the women take measurements for their costumes, which is always less drama here than at the men’s prison (take that, patriarchy!).

After props, we split again. Frannie took some folks to the back of the room to make cuts, while the rest of us tried to tackle the first few beats of Act V scene i. It’s a complicated scene, but it starts out simply, with Feste and Fabian. Then, as new characters enter, very few of them leave, and eventually the stage is full of actors. And a life-size cardboard cut-out of Fabio.

Our Feste was out today, so Coffey stepped in as the fool. We don’t love doing this, but it can add a jolt of energy when facilitators fill in, and that’s definitely what happened here! Coffey came in at a run, Fabian trailing behind her, turning the first four lines of the scene into a dynamic, high-energy moment that set the pace for the rest of the actors.

We stumbled through each of the short little beats that begin the scene, adding Orsino, Viola, Antonio, and the zannis to the mix. One by one, we felt our way through each little section of dialogue before moving to the next one or putting them all together. This sort of focus on a thirty-second (or ten-second) piece of the script can be frustrating sometimes, but it allows for a lot of repetitions in a short time, and that allows for a lot of creativity. In particular, our Orsino had fun feeling her way into the scene. When we started, she was wrestling with what the words meant and whom they were addressed to, but within a few minutes, she was totally clear on all of that and free to move dynamically in reaction to the other characters.

Fabian dove into her role, too, working with Coffey’s Feste as a hilarious duo. They chased each other and set each other up for physical comedy. Coffey would look at the “gold coin” deposited in her hand, and Fabian’s eyes would grow big and she would point at the imaginary money. It was great! And in reaction, our Orsino was able to be more frustrated with them, which gave purpose to her performance.

The real stroke of genius, though, came with Antonio’s entrance. We decided to try it with the zanni “officers” walking Antonio down through the house and onto the stage, which resulted in a really nice tableau at the end, using the levels of the stage and leaving half the space open for the next big entrance (well, except for Fabian, who lounged on the fountain set-piece pretending to eat popcorn). The trouble was that the path to that setup hadn’t made a lot of sense. Why was Antonio standing there? Why had the zannis stopped? Why was everyone tripping over everyone else? It was awkward at best.

“How are we going to get Antonio onstage?” I asked, not really having any idea myself.

Instantly, one of the women had an idea. “He makes a break for Orsino, of course!”

“Because he’s not a crook!” shouted another.

“And he sees Orsino, and he needs to beg him to understand his position,” added a third.

One of them jumped up on stage to walk our Antonio through the blocking, which looked even better than it had in my head--it solved all of our logistical and blocking problems while also staying true to the characters and their motivations. In fact, it added tension and urgency to the scene! If Antonio’s lines are delivered after breaking free from his guards and falling prostrate before the man who holds his fate in his hands (instead of just standing between two guards), Antonio’s plight becomes clearer and more intense, and the other actors will have more to work with--how to react? What does their character think of this outburst? It was masterful.

“How did that feel?” I asked after we put it all together.

“You should feel great!” shouted a woman from the audience.

“Oh, man! I can’t believe we’re out of time!” said one member. Indeed, it was 8:15, and we had to hurry! We put up the ring and hustled out after a very productive day.