Thursday, 20 June 2013
First blood was drawn, I think on a spar of wood I misjudged slightly. Only a rap to the knee, didn't even notice until someone pointed out I was bleeding onto the floor. (Quite impressed with myself. Never before managed to draw blood on the first day of rehearsal.)
My rehearsal costume drew wolf whistles; my favourite comment was a dry "Kein' Oma mehr, gell?" (Not a granny any more, huh?) - that much, it has to be said, is true. Another small role, but oh what fun to be had with it. The skimpiness of the dress and the height of the (vertiginous) platform stilettos stem from the character being seen as basically created following a man's wishlist... after the battering my ego took as a disabled old woman, it is going to be HUGE fun to be (for ONCE!) the saucy turn in an opera not distinguished by its comedy (the role is Marta, in Boïto's Mefistofele. No, you won't have heard of it...)
My back aches already from hurtling around on the stage in those bloody shoes (the director asked me to run quicker one too many times; for information, snarling the equivalent of "You put them on, Sonny Jim, and THEN tell me to go faster" is not terribly effective with directors with a great sense of humour - they just laugh . . .). I'm missing the communal theatre outing tomorrow due to agreeing to rehearse for the director's sake. My feet hurt too. Rehearsal clothes often smell. There was NO air in the rehearsal stage. Etc etc etc.
And yet, THIS is where I live, and this is where I come alive! Line up a fabulous director, brimming with ideas and energy, and wonderful colleagues across the board, from new and interesting to old friends whom one can be horribly rude to at will . . . Ah yes. I am very much looking forward to this fascinating process once again!