This week, Lynn learned that when opting for verisimilitude, one doesn't always know what one is letting one's self in for...
Lindsay Lohan's Birkin has a cast list of two teen girls. That's all. And considering that in my day, you couldn't get a teen girl off the phone, I figured I'd hear from them the moment they read the cast list.
Not so, Sherlock.
I finally drove to their high school, hours before my in-laws arrived from out West. I'd spoken with the administrator that morning, and he'd assured me that scripts could be delivered to the girls in class. Once I arrived, babe in arms, and asked if I could stay for confirmation that the girls had taken possession of said envelopes, he just looked 'em up and called them out of class.
I'd been a bit frantic at the cross-communication, so once I laid eyes on my cast, my shoulders came down from my ears. One girl had forgotten to tell me she was in a show starting Friday, so that helped me understand the underlying issue a bit. And happily, they're both taking classes at the school where I'd reserved rehearsal space, so they 1) know where that is and 2) will both be in class there Monday afternoon.
We're rehearsing Monday evening and Tuesday afternoon. Our show? Wednesday.
Oh, and the other actress just called to say she's touring college campuses, and won't be back for Monday's rehearsal. I gave her some notes over the phone and asked her to think about costuming. I also told her to tell her co-star I expect to see HER Monday night.
I've never directed by proxy, but damned if I'm not getting good at it.
Did I tell you we're FIRST on the program? And yes, there will be a program. I double-checked the actresses' names before sending in the information.
As a theatrical warm-up, DH has to re-read "Endgame" for class Tuesday afternoon, so last night we read it aloud. He was Hamm and Nagg. I was Clov, Nell, and Nagg (whenever there were Hamm and Nagg exchanges.)
It's funny to me, to think that the Hamm/Clov relationship in that play mirrors the James Joyce/Samuel Beckett relationship when Beckett was Joyce's secretary (as the latter wrote _Finnegan's Wake_). Or maytbe it's just about the apocalypse:
- Clov: It won't rain.
That's on page four and it says it all, I think.
And, on the bright side, at least we won't be over-rehearsed. And I'm having plenty of time to spend with hubby's folks!