The first rehearsals have mostly consisted of table talk. We have utilized the screening room in Anna's apartment as rehearsal space, which is terribly convenient, since it's in the middle of town, and also contains several green chairs that can be arranged into several makeshift set ideas.
(The chairs are sometimes difficult to move, but they provide great exercise.)
We have arranged the chairs to form tight circles, and through a series of intellectual discussions, gotten to know each other, and the play.
The cast immediately began digging into concepts that never crossed my mind while I was writing the play. If you asked me if I was thinking about quantum mechanics and discussions of faith, and different definitions of anger and rationality when I was writing, I would have responded with a blank stare. Yet those are just two of the topics people discussed. (The title is a quote from that discussion.) These wonderful actors were finding things in my play that I didn't realize I had written about. From one perspective, this means they were completely off the mark. However, that isn't necessarily so. Personally, I love it when my work takes on a life of its own, especially when the new life is more complex and intricate than the original one. That's the true sign of a writer's success: when you can look at a text and extract your own profound meaning from it.
Then again, I might have written these things subconsciously. After all, we don't even recognize most of our insight. I don't do extensive research before I write anything, which could render me a terrible writer. (Although one person told me that people watching, which I do, is the best possible form of research. Thanks for that.) I don't pay attention to how things are structured, yet someone (again, thank you) just told me that 22 stories is structured beautifully. I don't believe that some people are naturally better writers and others, that writing is a skill that must be studied and practiced. Yet when I write, words come out, and how they come together surprised me as much as it surprises everyone else.
But where would these realizations be without the marvelous talent and good spirits of my actors? After all, they are the ones who come up with these ideas. They create valuable insights about their characters that I never considered, but fit like a glove. Juliette made the executive desicion that Natasha is someone who lies around her room naked, and Frank discovered that Darius was actually a dark, manipulative character, when I mostly intended him to be comic relief. Yet for some reason, I like his idea better than mine.
The real magic emerged from the improv sessions that Anna made the actors do. Everyone working in this play has great chemistry with each other, and that means everyone can easily talk to each other and learn off one another. We didn't cast our twins with the intent to make them look similar, yet they resemble twins more and more every day. Perhaps it's because they get along so well, you can feel the familial energy between them (manifested in conversations between the two CHARACTERS that went on for 45 minutes). We are all so wrapped up in this play that we don't realize what magic we're making. I can't wait for opening day.
Wait what's that? Opening day? As in, a specific date when it opens? Does that mean we have a venue? Next blog post, lovelies...
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