Rehearsal Note Marginalia

All the cars I have ever driven have gotten the same three problems in their old age, in the same order. I have a feeling that directors, if they stick with it long enough, also follow a standard scheme of developmental stages: (1) oh god everyone is counting on me to have opinions, but i don't want to hurt their feelings; (2) I now have an opinion about every single second of every single performance, and I'm terrified that each idea will be my last, so I'm sorry if notes go a little long tonight; (3) everyone is driving me crazy and not inviting me out after rehearsal, if they would just listen to me we'd all be much happier; (4) holy shit, many problems seem to work themselves out without my dogged addressing of them, maybe I'll take a step back; (5) surrounding myself with the right people tends to eliminate the need for most of my input, why am I doing this? (6) I am doing this because I want to be clobbered by the world, and to clobber it back, and it turns out I only have to say about four well timed things throughout the entire process and then just enjoy the perpetual motion, and (7) now what?

I like to think I'm somewhere around 6 or probably 7. But I remember being between 1 and 3, and watching older directors do things like balance their checkbooks during run throughs, and I'd think "how dare you!" But it turns out, they had enough experience to know just how many problems would sort themselves out without their meddling.

In my mother's attic are three tupperware bins marked "the early years," "the Yale years," and "the freelance years." Inside are little plastic envelopes containing all the production books of every play I've ever directed. Why? I have no idea why I keep this crap. It's hard to imagine theatre becoming suddenly extremely relevant (without a massive electronic media apocalypse, which might be nice come to think of it), and for there suddenly to be an insatiable national thirst to dig into the archives of obscure stage directors who eventually intentionally restricted their work to one town on Cape Cod.

So, being ever the Virgo, I decided to crack into them over Christmas break and see if my thinking followed the evolution above. Below, I'll enter some of the chicken scratchings I find.

This is, I must stress to you, not self-mythology. I promise. I hate that shit. I hate it when you go to a director's house or office and the walls are covered in posters of shows they've directed. My god, take an interest in something other than yourself. Photocopy a painting at the library and stare at that why don'tcha? Get over yourself! (He said, pouring over his own directing notes from when he was 17.)

Below please enjoy transcriptions of my scratchings over almost 20 years of being a director. And consider most of it recanted for something much simpler.

 

The Early Years

The Man in the Bowler Hat - Boston Latin School - 1992

The first play I ever directed as a senior in high school. One day I realized that I didn't have to follow the stage directions, and in fact, could do whatever the hell I wanted. I then set about scoring the piece with gag after gag, all meticulously written into the margins of the script, along with tonal notes that seem to convey a knowledge of exactly what i wanted to see, before ever setting foot into rehearsal. "Very fakely" is my favorite. Very avant garde.

"John Must know everything, doesn't. Mary does know everything, mustn't."

'HI-STRUNG" (underlined twice)

"They all simultaneously snap their heads and look at the audience."

"Wide eyes, with all the conviction in the world."

"Big Pregnant Drama here"

"Breathless damsel type line"

"She sultrily crosses below him towards the door, a hand trailing on his cheek, but on 'I love you' is sucked back to him like a magnet"

"Suddenly every member of the cast and crew breathes very loudly from all sides. Then all stop short."

"Very fakely..."

"Huge tantrumic explosion, jumping toward them, after which John, Mary, and Bad Man, who is perched behind them on the couch, do a synchronized face wipe."

"Back to normal. Ha ha ha."

 

The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-In-The-Moon Marigolds - UMass/Boston - 1993

In my freshman year at UMass/Boston, I was sitting in the audience of the McCormack Theatre with upperclassman Natalie (on the right, in the unfortunately moray-patterned only surviving picture from this project at right), on whom i had a desperate crush. She had found this script wand wanted to direct it, but wanted to be in it as well. Seeing an opportunity to spend time with her, I said, "I'll direct it" and a career was born (yes, my career was born from my loins).

Being now in college, my margin notes took on a loftier language. I was desperate to sound deep and thoughtful, and was hopelessly stuck in the number 1 position i described above. Natalie, Tanya and Judith, all of whom were legal and could buy drinks and stuff, were incredibly patient with me.

"Daylight and sun are not welcome, how ironic that these plants can grow BUT WAIT! They're mutants!JUST LIKE BETTY RUTH + TILLIE!"

"Yes! Show Beatrice's eccentricity through her surroundings"

"Keep the audience from being disgusted, but make them marvel at how people can live in this environment. BUSY, yet somehow comfortable (in an apathetic sort of way) we figure, for the occupants, but never for us."

"Tillie is an atom. It is small like her."

"Mr. Goodman GOOD - MAN GOD? Men? Women? Are they religious? What do they worship? Who is their god?"

"Tillie has a special trance-like way of listening to her mother. She moves as if to seem ignoring Beatrice, yet with long pauses."

"Beatrice does not look at her children when she speaks to them."

"Tillie finds salvation in the maintenance of the rabbit."

"Mr. Goodman controls the weather."

"Show more duality in her face. Concreteness, no middle of road"

"Beatrice should have a wrist pin cushion which she looks at as if it were a watch."

"Stop acting, be the character."

 

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - UMass/Boston - 1996

Back in college after two years with an urban peace corps called City Year, having experienced something of a political awakening and seeking away to use theatre as a social medicine, i did what any 22 year old would, I tried to re-happen the sixties by directing One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. This was a massive undertaking with 22 cast members and outside professional help. It marked the first of three collaborations with songwriter Chris Colbourn, the bassist from Buffalo Tom.

I did a lot of begging, borrow and stealing to make this happen. I destroyed friendships, greased wheels, and experienced in a microscopic way the vivid mania it takes to make an independent feature. Were I to watch a video of the show, I'm sure I'd be horrified, but 2/3rds of the accomplishment was in the sheer scope of the project, and that it got off the ground. It had its downside in that I may have been something of a Georgie Porgie in this period, so the dust of this project settled on some borken hearts and broken friendships. This reputation still lingers in the eyes of old college friends I run into, so... you know, that's awesome,

It was also my first ever poster design, which was something that mushroomed into a big side business.

Here's my director's note from the program:

A lot of rumors fly around this campus about just why the hell it looks the way it does. According to one campus myth, this complex was designed so it could easily be converted into a prison once the university failed. Another suggests that all the contractors who built it are now in jail, for cutting corners, skimming, and using cheap materials. Some facts about this facility float around as well, like that it is riot proof: a large gathering of people can be contained and surrounded anywhere. There are gun turrets on the roofs around the plaza for crowd control. A person cannot get to the third floor of the administration building by stairs, only by elevator. This place was built in the very early seventies when there was a revolution going on within campuses across the country, from BC to Kent State to Berkeley, and the architecture here grows entirely out of these student uprisings that were sweeping the country.

The "legos" here on Dorchester Bay come from a generation of people who became dangerous, when they realized that society starts with them. And the seed of revolutionary spirit which bloomed into this freedom-on-the-heart epidemic was planted at first by Randle Patrick McMurphy in his appearance in Ken Kesey's beloved novel in 1962. This brawling, zany and raucous faux-lunatic has a dangerous infection which may be contagious, and on this mental ward, no one's heart is safe.

We go to a school which is a physical representation of the societal backlash to dangerously free individuals. We make our way through the habitrail and brick maze to find our education, and along the way we meet other troopers like us, who have jobs and children, who are carving out their own futures in a building that was meant for inmates. And we are dangerous. And in this little theatre in the heart of this massive compound, we are free... I hope you enjoy the show.

Brendan Hughes
May 17, 1996

I only found one cosmic, philosophical note in the marginalia of this production book, which was: "If everything's important, nothing's important." This is the third play I directed, and the majority of the notes are furiously written sentence fragments regarding rhythm and dynamics, representing both an effort to play the actors like instruments, and a terror that every idea would be my last...

"point @ Ruckly start your line
REALLY realize your mission, this decision kills you
walk even faster
"one week!" excellent
walla walla spin o' the wheel
odds to house
stand on chair
write when she approaches, stay for your line
RUN #2
cheerier happy NR HAPPY HAPPY
Hands should slowly go to Harding"

Etc. Etc. This is classic phase 2, when the thoughts and ideas pop like popcorn on the side of a pan, and we feel obligated to share and cultivate every single one for fear there will never be another and not knowing just how much of this crap works itself out. Oh youngster that I was! In my defense I was 21, and using theatre as a way to both rebel and seek approval at the same time.

More to come ...