Es ist vollbracht, die Heldentat
Nov. 9th, 2008 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pallas_athenaLast night was the last night of Zauberflöte. I spent the preceding week in a state of high panic, making the instantaneous transition from sleep to anxiety attack every morning around eight. It took until the last night to get all the costumes completely finished, and some of it was finished in the most half-assed and drunken way possible-- but it did, more or less, get done.
When I took the job, I knew it would be insane, but I didn't foresee quite how insane. There was no designer, no tech team and no real producer (the conductor and principal tenor were co-producing). The lighting board operator and our ONE stagehand were only recruited the day before the tech rehearsal. Making this show happen called on all the skills I had (directing! language coaching! dancing! sewing! makeup! making a dragon out of cardboard, tubular crinoline and hot glue!) and quite a few I didn't. I anticipate a new crop of grey hairs sprouting over the next couple of months.
It took everything I had, and in dark hours, I thought it still might not be enough. I barely saw my friends; missed Whitby; missed![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
orkamedies's bonfire; missed most things not immediately show-related. A historic election happened Stateside the day of our tech rehearsal; I was so consumed with tech nerves that I could barely summon the energy to care.
And yet, and yet. Before that evening's run, I'd had to read people the riot act about not being offbook and messing around in rehearsal. I'd been dreading it, of course, because I hate having to be the enemy; but the previous night's run had shown me an undisciplined, unfocused cast and given me The Fear about opening in two days' time. I told them they'd all made great strides since we began working together, and praised them for that; then said that each of them was capable of giving a far better performance than they currently were, and that they needed to take responsibility for the show, since it was theirs now. Then I read them the riot act, and said "I'm only going to say this once. You can mess around when you know it." Afterwards, I added "That was me being moderately tough. I hope you enjoyed it. Let's do this thing." And... they gave me a round of applause. And the guy who'd been messing around the most called out "We love you, Liza!" (He then learnt his lines and became one of the finer things about the performances.)
The first two nights, I was backstage helping run things, but last night I was up in the booth doing sound and supertitles, so I got to see the show: to see my artists at play in the world I'd helped create, and the audience laughing and applauding. And those singers were owning it: the music, the characters, the jokes, the story had become theirs, just as I'd hoped.
So, you know, it was worth it. It was worth it, for them. For the wild, weird and wonderful young singers whom I had the honour to introduce to this opera, and whom I got to watch as they took it and ran with it. When I thought I couldn't stay up another hour or sew another seam, I would think of the people I was sewing for. (Quite a few of them seem to have fallen in love with each other over the course of the show, which is all good, I hope.) (As for me, I fell mildly in love with several of them at once, which was... interesting.)
So, as I said to them at last night's cast party, we passed through the trials of initiation; we walked through fire and water, and none of us was the same when we came out the other side. I guess that a certain wild, rough magic is an inevitable side effect of doing this opera; but so is enlightenment, so is joy, so is love... and, finally, if we're lucky, wisdom.
Mozart gets the last word:
When I took the job, I knew it would be insane, but I didn't foresee quite how insane. There was no designer, no tech team and no real producer (the conductor and principal tenor were co-producing). The lighting board operator and our ONE stagehand were only recruited the day before the tech rehearsal. Making this show happen called on all the skills I had (directing! language coaching! dancing! sewing! makeup! making a dragon out of cardboard, tubular crinoline and hot glue!) and quite a few I didn't. I anticipate a new crop of grey hairs sprouting over the next couple of months.
It took everything I had, and in dark hours, I thought it still might not be enough. I barely saw my friends; missed Whitby; missed
orkamedies's bonfire; missed most things not immediately show-related. A historic election happened Stateside the day of our tech rehearsal; I was so consumed with tech nerves that I could barely summon the energy to care. And yet, and yet. Before that evening's run, I'd had to read people the riot act about not being offbook and messing around in rehearsal. I'd been dreading it, of course, because I hate having to be the enemy; but the previous night's run had shown me an undisciplined, unfocused cast and given me The Fear about opening in two days' time. I told them they'd all made great strides since we began working together, and praised them for that; then said that each of them was capable of giving a far better performance than they currently were, and that they needed to take responsibility for the show, since it was theirs now. Then I read them the riot act, and said "I'm only going to say this once. You can mess around when you know it." Afterwards, I added "That was me being moderately tough. I hope you enjoyed it. Let's do this thing." And... they gave me a round of applause. And the guy who'd been messing around the most called out "We love you, Liza!" (He then learnt his lines and became one of the finer things about the performances.)
The first two nights, I was backstage helping run things, but last night I was up in the booth doing sound and supertitles, so I got to see the show: to see my artists at play in the world I'd helped create, and the audience laughing and applauding. And those singers were owning it: the music, the characters, the jokes, the story had become theirs, just as I'd hoped.
So, you know, it was worth it. It was worth it, for them. For the wild, weird and wonderful young singers whom I had the honour to introduce to this opera, and whom I got to watch as they took it and ran with it. When I thought I couldn't stay up another hour or sew another seam, I would think of the people I was sewing for. (Quite a few of them seem to have fallen in love with each other over the course of the show, which is all good, I hope.) (As for me, I fell mildly in love with several of them at once, which was... interesting.)
So, as I said to them at last night's cast party, we passed through the trials of initiation; we walked through fire and water, and none of us was the same when we came out the other side. I guess that a certain wild, rough magic is an inevitable side effect of doing this opera; but so is enlightenment, so is joy, so is love... and, finally, if we're lucky, wisdom.
Mozart gets the last word:
Silberglöckchen, Zauberflöten
Sind zu euer Schütz vonnöten.
Lebet wohl! Wir wollen gehn;
Lebet wohl, auf Wiedersehn.
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no subject
on 2008-11-09 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-09 05:59 pm (UTC)It'd be seriously difficult, but not too late.
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on 2008-11-09 09:17 pm (UTC)Go you, though!
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on 2008-11-09 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-09 11:54 pm (UTC)There better be a video of this, because I MUST see it!
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on 2008-11-10 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 05:30 am (UTC)Are there at least pictures? I am SO sad that I wasn't in London for this and that I was so totally unhelpful with the art stuff. Let me buy you a garlic-laden dinner to make up for it when I get over there!
And speaking of things happening in two weeks... guess what Whole Foods has? GIANT FUCK OFF JARS OF PEELED ROASTED CHESTNUTS, STUFFING, FOR THE USE OF. Now, we can be masochists and peel those furry little fuckers, or we can partake of the bounty of yuppie grocery stores. The choice is yours... she said with an EXTREMELY MEANINGFUL LOOK.
no subject
on 2008-11-10 12:31 pm (UTC)Jars of roast chestnuts are a go.
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on 2008-11-11 06:32 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-12 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-11 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 04:51 am (UTC)As someone I am rather fond of has been known to say: fanTAStic! :D
Transformation is possible; magic is real; beauty is tangible. You made it happen.
no subject
on 2008-11-10 12:21 pm (UTC)So what are you doing next? A nice long rest, or is the next mad project about to start already . . .
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on 2008-11-10 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-11-10 10:15 pm (UTC)to me, this reads: LIZA HAS HOTT OPERA BOYS.
i want in on your next show, plz. :D
no subject
on 2008-11-12 05:05 pm (UTC)tell no one.
And yeah, if I do this craziness again, you're welcome to join in!
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on 2008-11-11 06:28 am (UTC)I loved your take on a (kind of misogynist) opera-- macho, power-mad women! You could tell the sopranos loved that. Everyone seemed to be giving 100%-- I was pretty blown away by a lot of the performances.
I'm looking forward to assisting with the veg-state, lazy days in your near future. I'm really good at that!
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on 2008-11-12 08:09 pm (UTC)Everyone did give 100% and more, and I loved them for it.
no subject
on 2008-11-12 10:24 am (UTC)All the very best, and apologies for being such a useless friend at the moment!
no subject
on 2008-11-12 08:09 pm (UTC)