Guthrie Theater

We started previews Saturday night. 

Doing classic plays like this one, I always have the same revelation as soon as an audience enters the picture:  after all this work that we put in as actors and director and designers, etc., it really is the play that is the star.  The most important thing - FAR beyond my miniscule choices and moments and character decisions - is to convey the story as clearly and purely as possible.  Because whatever artistry I may have in my four limbs and larynx and brain and spirit, well, Tennessee's piece of perfection dwarfs anything I could bring to the table.  This is not to say that I don't have something to offer or that my piece of the puzzle isn't an important one (somebody has to give Blanche a body and voice), and I do think that what we do as actors is art, but the most important art here is the play of which we are all coming together to tell the story.

[Random tangent:  I recently worked with an actor who actually thought (or at least said) that he doesn't believe that actors are artists.  To which I very wittily and poignantly replied... "HUH?"  Of course I had to interrogate him and his explanation was that he thinks the process is only an intellectual and physically technical one.  I mean, if he actually thinks that, then I don't see why he would possibly choose this as a profession.  Why put up with the struggle and the unemployment and the rejection and the poverty and the ridiculous (and beautiful) practice of putting yourself out in front of hundreds of people to possibly fall flat on your face, if you're not in it for the art?  Why not do something with a little more security and a lot less potential to incite neurosis?] 

Yes, playing this part is somewhat exhausting (especially when one is operating on not much sleep after a night of insomnia).  But the funny thing is that actually it is less exhausting than other roles I've played.  Last year I went to The Shakespeare Theater in DC to do Design for Living by Noel Coward.  I love the play and it is a character I'd always been interested in.  But in working on it and playing it, I really saw and felt the imperfection of that play and character.  It felt like an uphill struggle every night.   (Forgive me from your grave, Mr. Coward - I am a huge huge fan! And I don't mean to pick on you - there are some of Tennessee's that are not perfect either, certainly.  Imperfect plays from the two of you are still miles above most other playwrights' works ever in existence!)    I've also played Amanda in Private Lives, also by Noel C., and that was incredibly seamless - like riding a wave.  Even though they are vastly different creatures and the plays vastly different genres, Amanda and Blanche have the same feeling in the playing of them:  this feeling of being taken care of by the play.  The journey is so clear, it is hard to mess it up.  As the actor, one doesn't have to worry about compensating for faults of the script and characterization.  The structure, the ride, the well rounded and complete character - those take care of so much.  And the rest is just what I can bring to add to it.  But if I fall down for a second and lose my concentration or am not specific enough or get confused, the play is there to catch me. (Just say the words and don't bump into the furniture, as the saying goes! ...and let's be honest, in the case of Blanche, even bumping into the furniture is really ok, considering the fact that she's usually a couple sheets to the wind...)

Minneapolis audiences seem to be lovely so far - very warm and open and wanting to like the production.  That is often true of preview audiences, but I have a feeling that in this town (these twin towns), where everyone just seems NICER, that it may hold true even beyond previews!  Knock wood!

We're still rehearsing during the days this week, but most of the work from here on out will be in the evening hours in front of a thousand people.  We will continue to grow and change and adjust and learn learn learn about our characters.  The audience teaches us what works and what doesn't and even informs us of certain things about our characters that we didn't know before.  It's very exciting.  My performance three weeks from now will be a different one than it is tonight.  And by the end of August, more different still.  And it will be different on a Friday than a Tuesday.  And it is different for the audience on the left side of the house than for those on the right.  And it is different if a prop ends up falling in another spot than it normally does.  And it is different if our scene partner gives us a line in a way that he never has before, which stirs a whole new response.  And it is different if we hear the fireworks from outside.  And all these differences are what make the theater ephemeral, elusive, fleeting, entirely of the moment, and so gosh-darned THRILLING. 

Thank you for reading.  Hip hip hooray for Tennessee and his gorgeous decadent drunken piercingly heartbreaking giddily joyful outrageously poetic soul!

xoxoGretchen