The First Reading … but not the last?

Production team secured, we gathered for our first meeting and first reading of the script. As usual, the Jersey City headquarters of Triple Decker Productions was alive with activity.

After a quick dinner, prepared by Mandy (amidst various baking projects), I rushed off to the PATH station to wrangle my actors—first Giselle, then Tim. Soon enough, I conveyed them along the meandering route to our apartment—and quickly through to the conditioned air of our living room/bedroom/boardroom. On top of her game as usual, Mandy placed a series of snacks—a veritable smorgasbord—in front of our wide-eyed guests: fuel for their acting, and fuel for sitting on my ass. Meanwhile, Tim slaved in the bowels of Hell, I mean, our kitchen, washing every dish we own.

And so we waited and snacked, snacked and waited. The remaining member of our party, Mary, apparently was a victim of one of the many hazards of interstate and intra-metropolis travel: traffic. Though the Holland Tunnel practically drops you on our doorstep, getting to the tunnel and out is not a simple matter during rush hour. Cliché and logic cleared up the situation: the show must go on.

I began with the stage directions—my second favorite part of the script (like you care)—and Tim and Giselle did the rest. Around 15 minutes later, I had heard “The Concert” outside my head for the first time. Yes, I was nervous to hear my words aloud, but it wasn’t close to the nerve-wracking experience of that first KOTM reading back in March. No glaring inconsistencies or awkward phrasing struck my ears…this time around. Perhaps in coming rehearsals, I feel the need to edit. And for some reason, I seem bent on axing my props and set dressing. Aside from the couch, they aren’t essential to the story—but they do set the atmosphere, establish the context, and provide the characters with some action. But it’s just that, as an already fretting stage manager, I’m worried about setting and striking in the time-honored slapdash chaos of a festival. Well, there aren’t that many props. Let them be. Play this out as the author intended, genius that he is.

And…black out. More snacks.

Oh, yes, Tim (Decker, that is. God this is going to be confusing. Does he have a nickname or something? Oh ,that’s right: “The Tyrant”. That ought to clear things up.) made himself useful during all this—he is “Lead Helpie” and second understudy, after all—by playing appropriate party songs in the background to set the mood—or to set off Mandy. Either way, it was a good reminder of the soundtrack I need to assemble—how much time I need to fill, and how I want to cue it up (or “queue” it up?). And as I mulled all this in the sun’s dying glow, who of all people happened to show up on my stoop? Why our director, of course.

Gracious as ever, Mary jumped into a chair, grabbed a brownie, and we ran it all again for fresh ears. With a bit more energy and sense of tone, Tim and Giselle tried out there roles again. Fourteen minutes was the run-time, and we expect to add 4-5 minutes in blocking and pacing—including an indeterminately long dance break. No doubt already envisioning Tim and Giselle as “Wayne” and “Marissa”, Mary seemed satisfied with our starting point and was eager to move on to a setting a rehearsal schedule—perhaps even one at the famous Depot Theatre (where she herself once worked on a show—small world!). Looking forward to our next rehearsal, I guided my actors through the humid night toward home.