Today was busier. Had two radio interviews this morning. Fernando accompanied me. The first was with an old fellow who spoke ten to the dozen. I worked hard to keep up. He called me Fletcher, and talked about seeing Glenda Jackson on stage in London, in the House Of Bernando Alba. He wasn’t impressed by her. The second was more urbane. A bearded fifty year old chatted to us for about half an hour about this that and the other. At one point he asked what made the difference between a good play and a not-so-good play. Try answering that in English, let alone Spanish. I said ‘Que tipo de preguntar es esto?’ (What kind of a question is that?) I wonder what I sound like on the radio. If indeed I come across as an Anglo Saxon version of Jan Molby. or Leanardo, for those of a footballing bent.
Rehearsed 1 and 3 in the afternoon, probably working on these scenes for the last time. Changed a whole section in 3. The task now is to maintain the connections between the characters, avoid any tendencies the actors might have to say the lines to themselves, or the audience, rather that the other character. Then we did another run, the penultimate in the ‘parking’.
Anibal has come back from the coast to go on a date. Leandro and I gave him wardrobe advice. It’s 10.30. I’m in bed, listening to Barbarossa as I write. Its tempting to get maudling at this time of night, at this stage of the process, which, no matter how much of a co-operative the company is, is also lonely. But I have to fight that temptation. Hope I sleep well and look forward to the final week, for in a week’s time, at long last, we shall be on the eve of opening.
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Carlos came round at 9.30 with the first draft of the music. He’s been working through various nights with the musicians. He seemed wiped out, and only stayed 15 minutes to play it to me. No whiskey tonight. It sounds great, powerful, drums and guitar and the sounds of bears fighting.
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