After three weeks of rehearsing our upcoming production Next Fall in our rehearsal space at PNT, affectionately called the Mosh Pit, yesterday we moved into onto our set-in-progress in the theatre.
A move into the actual theatre is always an exciting one for cast and crew—the large space in which to play, the danger of acting in what amounts to a construction zone (the actors wear shoes at all times to guard against a stray nail or two!), and of course the anxiety of the oncoming previews which start in one week. One of the funny and unique things about the transition from rehearsal space to playing space here at PNT is the fact that the actors have to face a different direction when they perform. In the Mosh Pit, actors face West, and in the theatre, they face East. This causes some disorientation for the actors who suddenly find that they cannot trust their internal compasses. Though we have rehearsed the exits and entrances and transitions for weeks, occasionally the actors find they have no idea which direction they are meant to go. Stage left or stage right? East or West?
The transition is also a matter of acclimating to the set. In the Mosh Pit, we have the floor taped out to represent where walls and doors would be on the real set, but it pales in comparison to using actual working doors and taking entrances and exits in between walls and set pieces. At first, everything takes a little longer than usual, but it is remarkable to see the actors taking the space into their bodies—the real actions of entering a room, the real adjustments to props. Whatever disorientation the actors might feel upon entering the new space is moderated by the comfort of the ever-more-finished world in which they'll be playing (though they might say "living" as characters).
During one scene in the play, the character Adam is moving into his new apartment and has to enter the scene carrying a large box. When we ran that scene last night we quickly realized that the box was just about the same size as the space allotted for his entrance (the "gap" as we call it) so he could barely fit. After several desperate—and comical—attempts to enter, our director Ray solved the problem by changing the location of the entrance to the upstage gap. It worked just as well.
At another point in the play, the character Butch asks his son Luke where the bathroom is and Luke replies, “In there.” Last night, however, there was some confusion. Luke pointed to the kitchen. There is not, let me say, a toilet in the kitchen. In that same scene, Luke is moving items from his bedroom and stuffing them into the closet in an effort to “de-gay the apartment” before his father arrives. Of the victims of the de-gaying, one is a Truman Capote book from the bookshelf and another is a Tinky Winky doll (the allegedly gay Teletubbie from children's television). Last night, when we rehearsed with the actual prop, our Tinky Winky decided to speak. He exclaimed, "Uh-oh" and "Hugs!" and proceeded to giggle. None of us knew it was a talking doll, least of all Luke, who proceeded to talk back to Tinky Winky in an equally cartoonish voice.
Of course, at another point in rehearsal, one of our actors accidentally exited into the closet, which of course prompted a flurry of jokes about his character Brandon “coming out of the closet.”
Tonight is our second rehearsal in the theatre. After seven more hours of construction work done in the space, the set will surely present a new set of challenges. A freshly painted floor. A new (and smaller) couch than we are accustomed to using. A heavy bed that our hardworking Assistant Stage Manager has to figure out how to push out on stage by herself. Such is the joy of technical rehearsals. A new adventure awaits us every day.
