Oliver in Idaho, Part IV: Rehearsal Continueth

October 15, 2006 3:20pm

The second rehearsal, Tuesday 10/3/06: I go into it with hope because the night before, when I got back to the house of my hosts, they wanted to talk about theatre with me and pick my brain for thoughts on how better to run the company. They are both on the Board of Trustees and don't really know much about the structure and administration of theatre. Apparently there have been some recent political shake-ups in the upper echelons of the Idaho Falls Youth Arts Centre. I get the feeling that there was a lot of Pleasanton Playhouse-esque casting of board members' children in leads and the usual political fallout therefrom. I have yet to glean precisely what afflicted the company, and I shall report faithfully as soon as I know.

So when they asked me what I thought of the company I told them honestly that rehearsals are extremely disorganized and if you're paying an actor to come from California, you should get your money's worth and use him at every available opportunity. I also rambled for two hours about the possibilities inherent in their position as the only company in town doing musicals. These are some very level-headed people and I may have made an impression regarding the future of this company and theatrical hierarchy. But my hopes that my words would have an immediate effect on how rehearsals are run were dashed on the rocks of Idaho Falls at this second rehearsal.

I'm introduced to more people. I sit at a folding cafeteria table and study my lines. I'm pointed out to everyone who comes in, generally: "Anyone who just arrived, this over here is Edward Hightower, he's our Fagin." Applause follows. It's embarrassing. I'm trying to concentrate on my lines, because the first scenes we're working do not include Fagin. Bill Sykes arrives. My Gaydar goes off like a big decorative Chinoise gong. I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling he's a closeted gay Mormon. Perhaps it's the wispy sideburns and the YMCA Fu Manchu moustache. Admittedly, his Fu Manchu is a very very butch Fu Manchu. Very very butch. And this is Idaho. And he's in a production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in another town. So I figure maybe my Gaydar was thrown off by Mountain Time.

We work the Fine Life Reprise, a quartet wherein Bill, Nancy, Fagin and Dodger bellow and harrangue one another about -- surprise! -- Oliver. That's what I think the song is about. Bill wants to kill Oliver and Nancy wants to prevent that but keep Bill. Fagin wants to preserve the status quo, which means just keeping Oliver there and alive and continuing the very lucrative thievery we all do so well. We work the song. Musically. But we don't stage it. We stage the scene going into it. There's a chance we staged the scene following Oom-Pah-Pah first. I'll check that later.

Perhaps I am unfairly prejudiced from having had the deep pleasure of doing this scene at PCPA with David Studwell as Fagin, Bryn Harris as Nancy and Jonathan Hoover as Dodger. I always enjoyed that scene. I spent the scene intimidating everyone and then trying to murder Oliver, and then switching my rage to Nancy when she got in my way: the red cape waving Bully Bill away from the innocent child. I feel that it was fun and effective.

Here in Idaho Falls, the scene goes like this:

Bill: Try and get away from me, would you?

(Bill takes two quasi-threatening steps toward Oliver. Oliver does not move. Nancy walks toward Fagin.)

Nancy: I won't stand by and see it done, Bill. You've goh' 'im 'ere, whah' more would you 'ave, is that the right line?

Director: Nancy, honey, say that line to Bill, not to Fagin.

Nancy: What? Oh, yes. (To Fagin:) You've goh' 'im 'ere, whah' more would you 'ave?

Director: No, to Bill. Say the line to Bill.

Nancy (calm and collected): I won't stand by and see it done, Bill. (She crosses slowly toward him.) You've goh' 'im 'ere, whah' more would you 'ave?

(Bill takes a step toward her, then turns away.)

SM: Edward, Fagin, I think you have a line.

Fagin: Oh! Shit. I mean shoot. Sorry! Sorry, everyone. Kids. Can we take it back a bit? I was elsewhere.

We take it back a bit and it gets worse. Long pauses between every line. Nancy and Bill stare at one another from fifteen feet away. Bill never tries to get to Oliver more than once, and then only a little. Nancy is apparently exploring silence. Which is great for any actor. Just not as a bookend to every line in a scene that could potentially have the audience at the very least mildly concerned for Oliver's safety. I'm trying to imbue the scene with some sense of urgency, trying to get in between them when they're ... not ... fighting. Which makes it pretty easy to get between them. Only it's completely unjustified. I'm thinking that maybe if I get in Bill's face, he'll react. He does. For a couple seconds.

The director? Loves it.

Everything else we do that night with Bill and Nancy is pretty much the same. Nancy keeps delivering lines directly to me. Keeps looking for ways to poke me in the chest, the shoulder, the side. I begin to suspect she's gauging my muscle tone. Should I suck in my gut more than I already am? Is that possible without sharting? Does it matter? Why is she poking me?

Later in rehearsal, they're working the moment when Bill slaps Nancy after Oom-Pah-Pah. Now, those of you who know the show will say, "Edward, surely you mean after My Name. That's Bill's song. It introduces this character and makes it completely clear to the audience that Bill is a purely bad man who kills for the pleasure of it. Without that song, Bill looks like an only slightly violent white trash milksop who couldn't possibly engender the misplaced passionate love of the faithful yet abused Nancy."

And you would be completely correct, my friends. They've cut his song. He walks in after Oom-Pah-Pah and sits down and someone in the back goes, "Bill Sykes." Everyone takes a couple steps away. Bill does nothing. So now he's just a social leper. Not the right sort for the Whitechapel Country Club, but at the same time clearly not a murderous, extremely abusive misogynist.

I've asked why the song was cut. The response: it just comes out of nowhere after Oom-Pah-Pah and it's a really ugly song and just not our favorite. It completely kills the mood.

"Yes," I say. "Just like Bill Sykes."

This has yet to have had any effect.

So now Bill walks in to the bar and we have the scene about getting Oliver back and he slaps Nancy and we all run out when he tells us to, with me lingering a moment to see Bill walk up and tenderly caress Nancy's face, then leave. Because he, "...just can't say he's sorry."

Initially, the slap was a peculiar move that looked more like he was trying to push her down into fellatio. Interesting. But I didn't think that this was what the scene was about. Nor did I think it was that kind of show. When they're working this not-slap later, I hear the director say something about how Bill's wrestling moves certainly pay off. Wrestling moves? 7.9 on the Gaydar Scale, folks. Perplexing: it's clear they're trying to make it look like a real slap. But it sucks. And it's -- get this -- direct physical contact with her neck/face/left ear. A great big dangerous no-no, for the obvious reason that actors can get carried away. Adrenaline fuels energy, people get caught up in the moment and you've got possibly permanent injuries which could lead to lawsuits or at the very least pricier insurance. I get it. You get it. IFYAC doesn't get it.

I find myself drawn forward from the back of the multipurpose room. Valeen, the director, looks at me. "Edward," she says. "You seem like a stage combat type of guy. Do you have any thoughts?"

"My main concern is one of safety. May I -- ?"

"Please do."

I step up and explain how this can be tidied to increase both safety and the realism of the slap. It's your basic backhand swing, back of his hand making contact with her open palm, big loud smack noise and she whirls, clutching her face. The technical term for the moment of contact is, the knap. I show them the knap. He sort of tries it. Doesn't like it. I show him again. He sort of tries it again. I realise suddenly that he does not like at all the fact that my actual theatrical training and experience with stage combat has eclipsed his silly wrestling moves. It's clear to me that he doesn't really want to do it. He says, "It doesn't feel natural."

"I know. But it looks great."

Valeen says, "Is there something else you'd like to try, Chris?"

So he hauls off with his right hand, open palm, in a move I like to call, The Mommie Dearest. He likes that much better.

9.8 on the International Gaydar Scale.

I back off and figure there may be time later to fix this. I'll talk to Nancy. I try to talk to her as we're all leaving, but he's still there. We chat about a few things, she finds moments to poke me. I briefly consider sucking in my gut again, then decide against it. I'm playing Fagin, for fucksake, I seriously doubt anyone here is going to make any sort of romantic overtures.

Silly, silly Edward.