The old theatre adage goes, bad dress rehearsal, good opening night. And since our play is certainly near the top in terms of the 11 short plays, our dress rehearsal was a bit...spotty. The story of dress rehearsal certainly isn't the only reason why returning to the stage hasn't been as fun as I would like, but it is certainly indicative of the reasons why.
But it wasn't our fault. It was the stage managers.
There is a cast of about 25 people, and a green room that only has space for about 15. It's right next to the theatre, and it shares an air conditioning vent, so the cast has to stay more or less completely silent during the show, and it gets really hot and stuffy and cramped. I usually bring a book and hang out with the smokers up by the back entrance, taking advantage of the smoking breaks allotted because it's socially acceptable for theatre people to have really ugly lungs.
At any rate, during the intermission during dress rehearsal, I waited in line to use the one bathroom available to the cast, who were only allowed to use it inbetween acts because the flush can be heard in the audience. As I was unzipping in the bathroom, I heard the call for "five minutes" until the second act starts, and then, while still in mid-stream I heard the call for "places," which is what the stage manager says when there is about 30 seconds before the lights go out to let the actors know to ready themselves. By the time I was out of the restroom, the lights were out on stage and the transition music was nearing the last few measures. I had to run out onstage, missing my cue (which opened the act) and leaving me flustered throughout the show, and led both me and my costar to rush through the entire act.
After our show, our stage manager apologized for not knowing how to read the watch on his cell phone properly, and our director came backstage and gave us notes, most of which revolved around slowing the fuck down.
The director went back to watch the rest of the shorts, and my costar burst into tears. He started whining about how unprofessional it was for our director give us notes in front of other people, especially notes using "that tone," how he has an MFA in acting and that our director barely has half of the theatre experience that he does, and he didn't think there was anything wrong with our performance, and blah blah blah. He could be heard, via the air ducts, into the theatre, ruining the next short play after us (which was one of the really bad ones, so it was no real loss). The real loss came from Initials, our director, and mine planned tryst after the rehearsal, for which he was no longer in the mood.
I didn't cry, because, well, it was a bad run and we needed the notes. I dropped off my props, grabbed my book, and headed up to the smoker's den to finish my book.
And now, because the cast doesn't believe me that I took the notes in stride, everyone treats me on eggshells, placing warm hands on my shoulders and asking "How are you, really?". Which, if you know me, makes me more standoffish All of their ugly ones have stepped up their flirting attempts, using bitching at the director as an attempt to get on my good side, but since I'm sleeping with the director, it doesn't do them much good.
And there you have it. Inexperienced theatre tech people, crappy location, annoying costar, fat old guys trying to hit on me. It all adds up to a less-than-positive theatre experience.
And I didn't even mention the lesbians.
