A slightly caustic comment arrives from the UK, regarding this diary. Rather, this rehearsal journal. Suggesting that the rehearsal part of the journal could be done without. Of course, the description of the process, like the description of any process, veers towards tedium. However, in the end, it is for this, the process, that I am marooned here for 11 weeks. All the rest of it may be entertaining, but it’s not the raison d’etre. In some ways the rehearsal aspects of the journal put me in mind of the description of the crimes in the 4th part of 2666. Without the crimes, and they are manifold, there is no book.
Furthermore, the slight lunacy of the whole endeavour only makes sense in terms of the work. Last night, at a suitable moment in an old-fashioned rolling night of Uruguayan fiesta, Ramiro was talking about his relationship with the theatrical culture, and his position as an outsider. He’s recently been invited by the Solis (the Uruguayan equivalent of the National Theatre) to participate in one of 4 open-ended workshops. He’s been invited from his outsider position, and apart from the novelty of being paid to conduct an open-ended workshop, he’s proud of having insinuated himself from beyond the theatrical culture. However, it seems to me that La Pelea De Osos is coming from so far outside the system, it might as well be Martian. For myself and Ana there are ostensible reasons for our participation, but as for the rest, god knows. It’s a bit like they’ve seen an alien spaceship, considered the pros and cons, and decided to climb on board.
The fools! Anyway, the spaceship is, at least, moving. Acknowledging the fundamental dullness of the concept of a rehearsal journal, I shall, like the spaceship, and in spite of a masterly hangover, plough on regardless.
Furthermore, the slight lunacy of the whole endeavour only makes sense in terms of the work. Last night, at a suitable moment in an old-fashioned rolling night of Uruguayan fiesta, Ramiro was talking about his relationship with the theatrical culture, and his position as an outsider. He’s recently been invited by the Solis (the Uruguayan equivalent of the National Theatre) to participate in one of 4 open-ended workshops. He’s been invited from his outsider position, and apart from the novelty of being paid to conduct an open-ended workshop, he’s proud of having insinuated himself from beyond the theatrical culture. However, it seems to me that La Pelea De Osos is coming from so far outside the system, it might as well be Martian. For myself and Ana there are ostensible reasons for our participation, but as for the rest, god knows. It’s a bit like they’ve seen an alien spaceship, considered the pros and cons, and decided to climb on board.
The fools! Anyway, the spaceship is, at least, moving. Acknowledging the fundamental dullness of the concept of a rehearsal journal, I shall, like the spaceship, and in spite of a masterly hangover, plough on regardless.
Yesterday F+V rehearsed at mine. F called me at lunchtime to see whether we could meet earlier, so we did, and worked on his second large speech for an hour. V arrived at 4.30, and we attempted to complete going through the final act. It took forever, largely due to my end-of-week fastidiousness. I asked them to read it whilst playing an improvised game of draughts (using a table top, a Russian beer bottle cap, padlock, a Moroccan bracelet, an Ancel phonecard, etc). Playing the game changed the scene. The actors connect readily with emotion, they are over-blessed with emotional honesty, but I wanted them to play more. Measuring every line with a move in the game made them work twice as hard. The second time the scene was read it was twice as long, far duller in many ways, but far more gripping in other. Leaving us all exhausted at the end.
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Later all three of us strolled across Diez Y Ocho to the Teatro Circular, where 15 years ago I watched Horacio’s version of Pinter’s Betrayal. Something which lead to me vaguely translating Horacio’s plans to stage a rock ‘n roll version of Peer Gynt to Pinter himself, in his Notting Hill study. This evening we watched a production of Mas Vaca Sola, by Gabriel Calderon, directed by Ramiro Perdomo, V’s partner.
After the play, V, Ramiro, I and Ivan, the self-described biggest ‘DaQuin’ in Uruguay (– You what? – Da-Quin – Como? – Quin, like your Quin – Ah ‘Queen’ – Si – Da-Queen, mi encanta los Da-Queens – Ah, Drag Queen – Si, soy -) went to someone’s birthday party and drank the hind legs off the donkey. Ambled home at 4 following the appearance and consumption of birthday cake at 3.30, and have woken at 11, reasonably sane, looking to find my motivation for the next rehearsal. Which occurs in 4 hours time.
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Later all three of us strolled across Diez Y Ocho to the Teatro Circular, where 15 years ago I watched Horacio’s version of Pinter’s Betrayal. Something which lead to me vaguely translating Horacio’s plans to stage a rock ‘n roll version of Peer Gynt to Pinter himself, in his Notting Hill study. This evening we watched a production of Mas Vaca Sola, by Gabriel Calderon, directed by Ramiro Perdomo, V’s partner.
After the play, V, Ramiro, I and Ivan, the self-described biggest ‘DaQuin’ in Uruguay (– You what? – Da-Quin – Como? – Quin, like your Quin – Ah ‘Queen’ – Si – Da-Queen, mi encanta los Da-Queens – Ah, Drag Queen – Si, soy -) went to someone’s birthday party and drank the hind legs off the donkey. Ambled home at 4 following the appearance and consumption of birthday cake at 3.30, and have woken at 11, reasonably sane, looking to find my motivation for the next rehearsal. Which occurs in 4 hours time.
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Am now, as is usual, reading most of this in one great slurp. But two things I will add at this point.
ResponderBorrarOne. The rehearsal part of this diary is muchos importantas - and whoever said it wasn't is clearly a sap.
Two. Mosquitos can only be defeated by blitzing your room just before you sleep. Also shut your windows an hour before nightfall.
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