Monday Monday (and Tuesday)

Early in the morning, the whole cast was to assemble for our first real dress rehearsal, the first occasion when I might be able to rely on having the entire cast together in one place… only to discover that Pigeon 2’s grandfather had passed away, which meant she would not be coming.  However, not to worry; I was introduced to her replacement (Pigeon 3?), a young lady called Sanskritti.  She seemed like a confident young person, so I was confident too that all would be well.  If necessary, she could perform with a book.

The rehearsal itself went much as I imagined it would, that is, dreadful.  The most notable single aspect was a spectacular meltdown on my part, upon discovering that not only had Rabbit and Squirrel been late for their entrance (I had missed the actual event, dealing at the time with something else), but they had been eating backstage, and had ignored pleas to get on stage by a fellow actor.  This struck me as virtual deliberate sabotage.  I was tense, I suppose.  I must have been, because my reaction was beyond terrible, as close to physical violence as you can get without touching: shouting at them both at very close range, and getting louder when they were unable to say a single word, despite me ordering them to do so.

I was very soon, of course, thoroughly ashamed of myself, but what was done was done.  Rabbit in particular is a person I have clashed with on a regular basis.  Various people have suggested I should sack her, and indeed it has been a possibility, but I think it is the teacher in me that has overruled the director; a teacher does not, or should not, give up easily on a student.

After a break, the performance came that afternoon. The arrangements went smoothly enough – the chairs, the orchestra, backstage – and then the show.  Geeta and her husband Roger were there, and that made a lot of difference.  It was clear that they were enjoying the show, and that gave the entire audience – not that big, if the truth be told, but big enough – licence to enjoy it too, and to laugh.

Any young cast has no idea that their play is funny, and ours were no exception.  They were as high as kites at the interval, having received a reception that none of them had expected. (And this being despite the fact that the performance was very far from being perfect… whatever that means.)  It took me quite an effort to calm them down, and even then Steve, the lead monkey, made a right hash of the opening scene, partly because his concentration was shot, partly because he always tries to find more things to do.  But there can be no doubt that by any reasonable measure, the performance was an outrageous success.  Everyone who spoke to me absolutely loved it, which obviously pleased me a great deal.

On the Tuesday, for our second performance, it was actually much the same again, only without Geeta to lead the audience, they were rather flatter.  But I was critical of them at the interval, and told them so.  Rather too much perhaps, for I then had to lift them again, so that they could approach the second half with a measure of confidence.  Which, to be fair, they did. The second half is  more obviously funny, in any case; it has the Wolf and the Sheep, and the sheep have always been hilarious, in any production.  But they also picked up the pace and the cues.  What had annoyed me was the fact that they had still not ironed out the errors in the show: too many late entrances, too many inaudible lines… But it was also equally loved.  It’s a hit all right, a palpable hit.