Into the fire...

Yeah, this is the week from hell. I got back from SETC, sick as a dog. I have no idea how I managed to present my three workshops, but I'm sure it was funny watching the feverish, stoned fat guy meander around a topic while trying not to fall over. I spent most of the conference in bed when I wasn't teaching. I had no idea there were that many variants of Law and Order and CSI, and they're ALL available on hotel cable!

Then I get back to finish focus and programming for Crucible. I get everything written, the SM and I get the director in to look at things, and he starts CUTTING cues! I love that! Usually they want a ton of extra stuff that I haven't planned for and that no one has told me about, but Matty decided instead to take out a bunch of spacer blackouts that I had put in for set changes and just let things flow better. It was great. There was still some tweaking that had to take place as I went through tech Sunday night, but nothing huge. I also still haven't seen Act IV, although I've designed looks for it and written cues for it, so that's a touch worrisome. If it turns out to look good without me ever seeing the play, I'll be even more insufferable. I also found out that my Les Mis schedule isn't as hellish as I thought - I'll be able to get back over to Crucible tomorrow night for touchup and things, so that leaves me in a much better place than I thought I would be.

My place in the universe is further improved by the fact that a check for the first half of my fee was waiting for me when I walked into the theatre Sunday. It's always nice to be paid promptly.

Les Mis focus was tonight, and it went pretty smoothly. The house plot in that venue is very flexible, and I've worked within it enough times to get a lot out of it, so I changed out a little color, called the front of house focus, threw a bunch of patterns in the air and called it art.

One thing I'm really doing a lot with in this show is patterns for texture, just out of focus breakup gobos to keep away any impression of smooth lighting. The France of this play is a very dirty, shaowy place, and I'm working with lighting to enhance that mood even more by breaking up the light every chance I get. I think it will add a lot to the show, and give it a very distinctive look about the play. I've also got some neat projection things going on in Crucible that I'm very pleased with, and some great play of light and shadow on scenic elements and actors.

Tomorrow moring I go in from 8AM - 1PM for a cue writing session, and hope I'll be able to get most of the show written in that length of time. We then break for lunch, come back a 2PM for a 3PM rehearsal, and theoretically are finished at 7PM for the day. That's a pretty hard number, since it's a union house and anything over 5 hours with the crew goes into serious overtime charges.

So at 7 I'll boogie over to Crucible and see what's shaking there. I might take a few minutes to eat first, though. I think any touch-up focus I do will happen Wednesday night after our rehearsal, as Crucible should be done with me by then and I'll have a more complete idea of everything that needs be done to make Les Mis as good as I can make it.

It's more than the money, although it's very nice of these places to throw me a few bucks to play with lights on their behalf. It's about pride at this point. I've taken plenty of gigs that noone ever sees or notices the lighting, but a big musical like Les Mis, expecially the first local production of the show ever (even if it is by a high school, it's a good high school) requires everything I can give it. I decided a long time ago that if my name's in the program, it doesn't matter if it's community theatre, high school, professional theatre, volunteer theatre or the highest paid gig of my life, it gets everything I can give it. I just don't think it's fair to give anything less.

When I directed Much Ado About Nothing, a production that was thoroughly adored by audiences and loathed by critics, one of my actors asked me on opening night (when we were all out drinking and celebrating the opening) how I knew when I "got it right." I told her I never knew if I'd gotten it right for anyone else, but for me, I knew I'd gotten it right when the show opened, and I felt a profound emptiness inside myself as I watch my actors take the stage, like there was absolutely nothing left of myself to give to the process.

That's how I know I've gotten it right, when I'm empty on opening night. The joy of watching the show to fruition fills me back up again and then some, but when I feel all hollow inside right before curtain, I know I've done my best. I try to feel that way about every show. Sometimes I get there, sometimes I get in my own way and I don't get there, but it's good to just give it everything you've got. Because that's my measure of success. If I've held nothing back, then I've done a good job, no matter if anyone in the world sees it or likes it.

I don't really know where all that came from, but it's all pretty true. I've felt more energized about theatre in the past month than I have in the past two years, so I guess I'm blaming Chris and that merry band of degenerates we've assembled down in The Rock.