Someone Is Watching

            It was a late, late night last night into this morning.

            We ran everything in real time with no stops all the way through Big Battle and then screeched to a halt so that we could tech the second half of Act II. Big long waits while the shift into Queen’s Chamber was engineered. Ditto the top of the Pot Scene (also referred to as Baby Funeral or Mad Marge) with fog and snow. My section of the Pot Scene has the only dialogue I have in the show – “And you will stay with John Borden” etc. – so that was moderately fun. Most everything else I say is prayer monologues. Final March – well – we ran that umpteen times.

            When you go that late everyone gets a bit giddy, even me. I know the difference between me giddy and me, well, asleep, is slight, but giddy I was.

            We finished up at about 2 am.

            I’ve discovered the secret of happiness.

            Happiness is comfortable shoes.

            The Colony supplies shoes for Principals (and others but not everyone) but they are the cheapest most ill-fitting footwear ever made. I think they date from Soviet Union Made in Yugoslavia days.

            After suffering greatly on Tuesday night I went off to Rack Room yesterday and found some footwear that closely matches the supplied shoes. I was a good boy and cleared their use with the costume department. I won’t say that my feet weren’t killing me by about midnight, but it was just normal feet-killing pain, not the horror of the night before.

            Happiness.

            Former Colony director Fred Chappell is coming to town. They are dedicating the season to him. I am eager to see him. I’ve now worked with four directors here, but Fred is my first and I always think of him as “my” director.

            Everything I know about acting in The Lost Colony I learned from Fred Chappell.

            Some of his most oft repeated notes:

            If you take a dramatic pause between lines and you think the pause is just exactly right – it’s too long. The audience is way ahead of you. Pick it up.

            Bigger, louder, faster.

            One of the favorite notes he, or any director, has ever given to me personally. It was an Old Tom year and the production as a whole was fairly sluggish. He took me aside and whispered:

            “Don, I don’t care what else is going on. I need you to drive this mother. Drive it! Push it through to the end or we are fucked.”

            I did my best for him.

            Bigger, louder, faster.

            The most important note he ever gave. Fred would work extensively with the Crowd. You alumni know what I mean when I refer to the Crowd. For you uninitiated an explanation is in order.

In many scenes there are lots and lots of people on stage. They are the Indians in the opening Amadas and Barlowe scene; they are the party-goers in Queen’s Garden; they are the townspeople and departing Colonists in the Plymouth scene; the Colonists on Roanoke Island in Act II.

Do you alumni remember the years when the Crowd would ad lib? That’s gone and has been gone for years.  And a pity it is. A few mumbles is what we get now.

But the heaviest loss has been the individual stories that members of the Crowd used to tell. And this was Fred’s note:

No matter how many people are on stage, there are a thousand-plus people in the audience on any given night. Someone in the audience is watching YOU. Someone is following YOUR story. Who are you? Are you getting on the ship for the new world willingly? Did you just get out of prison? Are you married? Are you and your spouse happy or at odds about departing? You – apple seller – are you having good sales today? Are you getting over an unhappy love affair with the fishmonger? When you get to the New World are you happy you came or do you think you’ve been duped into this mad adventure? Are we sorry to see you killed in the battles, and do we root for you to join the exodus from the fort, or be disappointed that you are a traitor at the end? What is your story?

            Someone is watching you.

            And if you are standing there with your mouth open (watch out for bugs flying into your mouth), unfocused or thinking about the upcoming party or your chances with so-and-so, or cutting up and playing onstage games – someone is watching you and you have shattered the illusion. You have failed. Find another line of work. You don’t belong on stage. You are a waste of space and there are a few thousand other young actors who will audition next year for the chance to be in the Crowd.

            Someone is watching you.

            And of course - bigger, louder, faster.