Months ago, I had been asked to show the theatre to a couple girls who were planning to mount a production in future. While they were looking at the theatre, I mentioned that I would probably be asked to program their lighting for them, and their stage manager could just just hit the go button. I didn't think anything more about it until, a couple weeks ago, they came back, handed me something resembling a script of R&G Are Dead and told me that they planned to take me up on my offer do their lighting design and operation. Also, they didn't have a stage manager. Or a production crew. And the director (Amba) was also playing Guildenstern, and was still on book.
Beh. Jeh. Feh.
Miranda: (holding a motely collection of loose papers with no numbering, covered in notes) So, can I get a performance copy of the script?
Amba: (pointing at motely collection of loose papers with no numbering, covered in notes) That's it.
Miranda: Seriously?
And so I end up typing out my own copy of the script to write my cues in. It took two days and by the end of it I discovered that my original 'script' was missing pages, therefore my nice, new script was also mising pages. The opening speech and the last couple pages of act two to be specific, so it was kind of a big deal. The show has now closed, and despite my frequent requests for those pages, I'm still waiting for them.
Now, I will be the first to admit that I'm not great (understatement) at lighting design. Still, it's a really small stage, so I drafted out a basic lighting plot (or at least something resembling one) that seemed alright. Amba told me what specials she wanted, mostly close spots, allowing for little movement if you want to stay lit. Then again, most of the actors don't seem to know how to find their light. Still, she refused my suggestions of bigger spots, or filler lights for those frequent times when actors walk out of their light. Focusing the lights (they were already hung) took much more effort than it had any right to take. We couldn't do it ourselves, due to the dubious system of having to stand on a rickety stool on top of a five foot scafold in order to reach the lights. The staff guys who were supposed to focus the lights for us (me giving English instruction to Amba to give to them in Hindi) kept disappearing or saying they couldn't do the work unless a certain other person was there (lie). They also said they couldn't hang more instruments (lie) which meant that I had to make the best out of what little was up there. They also said they couldn't patch lights plugged into the old (metal slider )system into the Strand board (lie) which meant that I was going to have to do some acrobatics to operate certain lighting cues. It also meant that I lost a filler light for one of my areas. That somewhat darker spot pissed me off. Anyways, it took all three of the tech days (6-8 hour days) to focus twenty something instruments, and we had to stay super late on the third day just to get it done. The actors used the time to get used to the space and run scenes, but I was only told the lighting looks for the third act, sort of. I never even saw a run of the show in those days. Technically (considering that, from the lx booth, you can only see the stage left half of the stage) I guess I never saw the show at all.
Amba: (jokingly) Now all the pressures on you. The play will be a complete failure if the lights fail.
(I raise an eyebrow and contemplate saying: "Nobody will notice the lighting because they'll be distracted by how much your play sucks". What I actually say is:)
Miranda: I doubt that.
Amba: I've seen productions that were ruined by messed up sound and lighting.
Miranda: First of all, you haven't even told me *where* all the lighting changes are. I can look at the stage directions...
Amba: No. That won't help you.
Miranda: Okay. You still need to give me the lighting cues. Can you e-mail them to me?
Amba: No. That will take me too long. I'll call you Saturday around eight.
Miranda: Okay. Secondly, not just for me, but for your sound operator who hasn't been here *once* this week, you need to come in for another day, where we can *rehearse* all of your sound and lighting cues. I only been able to to the third act, and some of mu cues rely on sound, blah blah blah.
Amba: You're right. That's a very good idea. I'll call Jalabala tomorrow to set up a day.
I'm still waiting for that phone call with the lighting cues. In the end, I called them to set up a tech day. Due to the Guildenstern/director's inability to stop directing or learn her lines, there wasn't actually a run. I was given various sets of lighting cues, but didn't get to try out most of them.
Right after their tech days, it absolutely *poured* rain for a few days. One of their set pieces was a tree (in the Waiting For Godot sense of the term) and they were storing it behind my cottage. At one point, when the rain stopped for an hour, I dragged the tree under the awning, but the staff moved it the next morning so they could sweep under the awning. They love to sweep.
Miranda: (Confused. A little pissed at being disturbed.) Hello?
Actor playing Ros: Hi. It's [name of actor who's playing Rosencrantz].
Miranda: Um...
Ros: From Amba's play.
Miranda: Oh, right. Hello.
Actor playing Ros: Can you make sure our tree is out of the rain?
Miranda: Well, I moved it under an awning, but it's only about half covered.
(this is repeated a few times until Ros understands what I mean.)
Ros: Can you put it somewhere else or put a tarp on it?
Miranda: There's nowhere else to put it. Of course, if *you* bring a tarp, you're more than welcome to cover it.
Ros: So if someone brings a tarp, you'll cover it?
Miranda: (Slowly and with great clarity.)You can bring a tarp and cover it yourself.
Ros: Oh, okay. I'll see what Amba says and then get back to you.
Nobody calls back. It's really pouring outside, I don't want to get soaked through, so I let the tree drown. There's nowhere sheltered to put it anyways.
The thing is, after seeing those few rehearsals, I'm not particularly commited to the play. It's not....... great. Amba is one of those yelling, hystrionic directors, which isn't really my thing. She's also interpreted the script a little too seriously...... meaning it's more melodramatic than comedic. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the play was supposed to be hysterically funny. During their rehearsals, I would sometimes flex my dramturgy muscle, which it turns out, I'm getting better at. I didn't impose on their interpretation. Although I really confused the Player when I kept asking her to explain to me why she goes into such detail in describing the performance that R&G skipped out on. She played it very dramatically, and it just sounded odd to me. I think there's supposed to be something a little lighting in that pearticular scene. I could be wrong. My 'light dramaturgy' seemed to be appreciated (except for pointing out that they guy painted up like a Harlequin playing the Player King was an anachronism, so far as commedia is concerned), especially when I explained to them how to more effectively use these gorgeous commedia masks they had gotten made for the dumbshow. There was one point, where Amba (supported by the rest) cried out "Ah! We've needed someone like you all of this time!". Yes. Yes you did. But you didn't.
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