June 12, 2005
Sunday was our day off, which I spent doing nothing terribly interesting; just some laundry and a swim in the backyard pool. That's life out in Bloomfield, though. Not terribly suburban, no urban sprawl or big strip malls, and not too much of a smalltown feel, either. Just a quaint 1940's neighborhood in a small part of a large metroplex held tightly together by the giant magnet of Manhattan. Several people in our business live out here or in nearby Montclaire, and they eventually find each other (the other day I sat on the bus next to a woman who turned out to be Julia's agent). There's plenty of room out here, which my family will enjoy, and as a special bonus for me, Will has a really nice drumkit up in the attic. Having gone nearly five months without drumming, it's a sight for sore eyes (and sore arms, which mine are now after a good weekend workout). Even though I sometimes miss the adventurous vibe of the city streets, it's a small price to pay for a scenario that couldn't be more ideal.
A couple of nights ago, Will and I sat out on the deck with drinks and cigars and vented. Friday had seemed awkward, we thought. We had started from the top again to work in the latest script changes, and the rehearsal seemed to be weighted down with too much discussion and not enough action. One of the byproducts of rewriting this particular piece is that it turns people inward. The multiple John's begin to wonder if the other John's should have their lines or their songs or their moves or whatever. And in this "anything goes" atmosphere we all feel free to speak up about it. That's not a bad thing, really, except that we have only two weeks of rehearsal left and a line should be drawn somewhere. Would the next two weeks continue like this?
We wouldn't have to wait long for answers, and we weren't the only ones waiting. It seems everyone went home and thought hard about that day, because on Saturday all the issues we had pondered the night before had magically addressed themselves. Don, whose energy had lately been compromised by his writing duties, took firm hold of the reins as director and the cast followed his lead by taking control of their roles. Less talk, more rock. The scenes sprang to life and spirited improvisation (spearheaded by galvanized veterans Terrence and Chuck) became the order of the day, with brilliant results. In contrast with yesterday's abrubt and shrugging wrap-up, today's rehearsal ended with spontaneous applause, each of us energized and inspired by the show's elevated rhythm.
I don't have to hit the streets to find adventure; it's right in this room.