deconstructing mark
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Sunday 21.3.04 | AND so ends one of the most surreal weeks I've ever had. I don't think it'll sink in that it's all over until I hand over the keys to the theatre to the director of the next play, which I have to do at 2pm today. I can't believe that the project which I've been building up to since October came to a zenith last night and is now suddenly over. Part of this, perhaps, is because I drank enough vodka last night to keep the Chairman of Smirnoff's children in school for a good few years yet. I've spent pretty much all day every day since last Sunday in or around the theatre - not done a jot of work, only been to one class, sat and shat myself during performances with and for my actors and my crew. The play itself went really well - last Monday's rehearsal was pretty impressive, Tuesday was excellent, Wednesday I thought you couldn't beat and that was just the dress rehearsal. Predictably, the thing developped wings with the presence of an audience, and there was quite an audience to show it to - 181 people came to see the thing in the end, which, given that it was in bloody German and a very small theatre, I think is quite an impressive number. I know that there will be a measure of getting back to reality to be done which will be painful because that reality involves a lot of academic work, and my final week of classes next week. And finals. Eeek. But it will also involve looking back on this week and reflecting with a little more distance and a little less alcohol in my bloodstream. I had plans in my first year that something with Der Besuch der alten Dame would happen in my final year; if you'd told me then that I'd be directing it (given that I can't direct my way through my own front door - at least, couldn't this time three months ago) the thing, I would have laughed at you and offered to get you another drink. It's still my favourite play; it still scares me, makes me laugh - I even had a lump in my throat last night at a couple of the more solemn, melancholy bits. I was thinking last night (when sober, I assure you) that one of the main lessons of that play has nothing to do with money or revenge. They have their place in interpretations, but what people generally ignore is the more human factor of it. The fact that the two saddest words ever uttered are 'If only'. It made me think about a lot of the crap decisions I've made in my life, and some of the good ones, and while I'm glad that my life isn't like the characters' in the play, who have accounts to settle with an invincible billionairess who will stop at nothing to get what she wants, I still wonder what would have been - if only. Lots of people have asked me if I will be directing again. At the moment, I have no plans to. Apart from anything else, I won't have time once I start working next year. That doesn't mean, though, that if I do end up doing what I think I want to (lecturing) I might consider it. It has taken over my life somewhat and there have been points where I've wanted it all to just go away, but looking back on it, it's all been worth it. There are other plays I know which would be fun to have a go at - The Fire Raisers and The Physicists being just two - but for the moment, I'm happy with what I have :-) Monday 22.3.04 CRASHED back down to earth into the monotony of classes and essays. Actually, it's rather a relief, if I'm really honest - I had a great week last week, but one was enough. Something that kept occuring to me yesterday was the -metaphorical- sudden ringing silence; I felt like there had been an orchestra playing one tune for months and months on one long crescendo, building up to an earth-shaking finale - and suddenly it stopped, and I found the auditorium empty, with it all still crashing around in my head. Call me a luurvey, but that's what it felt like yesterday. | ||
