Goodness, it's awkward trying to gauge the correct outfit to wear to a première in which I was meant to be performing but which, due to the slightly-mangled-knee situation, I am going to be supporting as a member of the public.  Worrying about dress is definitely not one of my usual preoccupations, especially when it comes to premières - I absolutely adore dressing up (one of my small sadnesses is the prevalence of modern-dress productions - I *like* wearing massive flouncy skirts and rivers of diamonds and breathtaking headdresses).  I am well aware that in this city of dressing-down and sartorial restraint (I'm being nice here.  There is a culture of jeans and T-shirts, which changes to jeans and jumpers when the weather closes in; wearing dangly earrings is often interpreted as going a bit over the top...) I stand out like a sore thumb at times, but heck, I'm used to it and it amuses me, so why not?

Well, this evening I really don't want to overdo it; I am there to support my colleagues rather than to glitter away happily, and I definitely have no wish to overshadow anyone.  I was thinking something classy yet elegant, then, and combing my wardrobe for something which might fit the bill.  I do have a few bits and bobs which come under relatively restrained, mainly generic little black dresses which I use for auditions, being absolutely the only singer I know who actually has to dress down for audition; however all of these, upon closer inspection, tend to leave my left leg far too exposed.  I have graduated to walking slowly with a knee brace, and have recently been brave enough to abandon the crutches, but I really don't wish to present a picture of ill health to the Powers What Be at the theatre, so the brace, in all its dalek-like glory, really needs to be covered up.

Longer skirt then - shouldn't be a problem for me as that's my standard attire.  Longer skirt without holes gnawed through by oily bicycle chains and aiming for something like elegance?  Hmm.  Bit more difficult, that.  Eventually I settled on one which matches well with a beautifully fitted little velvet jacket.  Ha, I thought.  Sorted!

And now the weather has stumped me with a last-minute reversion to high summer.  Last night it was nearly 30° until well past eleven p.m., and today is just as hot.  However elegant, a velvet jacket in a packed auditorium might just be pushing it in temperatures where a swimming costume would be more comfortable.  Damn - back to the drawing board!

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Today's random picture was taken on a very overcast day last weekend at the Botanical Gardens.  The sky was so depressingly grey behind the last sunflower standing that I couldn't resist taking it out completely and tweaking the colours to make everything just that bit more cheerful.  I hope it raises a smile!

Photo:  Martina Pipprich

And thank GOODNESS that's over with!!  Apologies for lack of posting prior to the premiere, but really, things got absolutely manic.  I really don't think my brain has ever, EVER been quite so full.  Cramming for finals at Cambridge was the nearest I ever came, but this was so much more than that.  

Has to be said, though, they LIKED it!!  The public reaction was astounding, given the modernity and tonal weirdness of the piece.  The composer's reaction was very positive (I will admit, I was DREADING his appearance at the premiere - he has not always approved of productions of his work; in person, he was sweet and smiling).  The reviews are fantastic.  I can breathe again...

I am now very much looking forward to actually enjoying a few performances, as opposed to quivering with nerves the entire evening.  The hard work has been done.  I KNOW this music.  Yes, yes, I'll make different mistakes next time, but the broad sweep is fixed and fascinating.  

A short excerpt here from one of the rehearsals.  Roughly the equivalent of the "Yet here's a spot; out, damned spot" point.  Mad scene, I don't think I need to say.

Yes, that IS a fur coat I'm wearing.  In Mediterranean late spring weather.  No  bloody wonder I sweated like a pig!!!

Ahhh, once again the sheer glamour of it all threatens to overwhelm me.  Premiere tonight, so I did what I could to ensure a decent night's sleep last night (not helped by the dress rehearsal being yesterday - we usually get a free day before each premiere, but something had gone askew in the theatre's schedule, and we had to lump it).  In vain:  I kept having to wake up to unstick my ear from the pillowcase... leftover glue from the make-up department doing their best to keep my wig in one place whatever I may be getting up to on stage.  Not that easy to get off, I tell you.  I was at the time far more worried about removing the last of the thick black line of greasepaint around my jawline, which had become ingrained and looked suspiciously like five-o'clock shadow.  Not to mention the stains left by beetroot-juice "blood" all over my neck, decolleté, legs... um, all over any bits that weren't strictly covered by the costume.  I shall try to scrub up decently for the post-premiere party but my goodness it's difficult - even if you manage to elbow your way into make-up before anyone else (I don't; I'm far too much of a sucker for the post-show bubbly on stage...) and get the wig removed, then set to with baby wipes and the special microfibre flannels we've been issued with, and dive through the shower, there are bound to be a couple of places you manage to miss; and it's all very well donning little black dress, pearls and stunning silk scarf, but if someone then tactfully whispers in your ear that you have a suspiciously green right eyebrow and your ankles appear to have developed hives, it's all in bloody vain...

Then of course there are the incidental smudges of ash from making my toi-toi cards.  I don't know why I persist in getting all excited about making these; it really isn't necessary, but I do get rather excited by the prospect of stringing something creative together, and spend time in rehearsals daydreaming about themes and colours and bits of cardboard and chocolate hippos (or similar).  I always forget that what it will boil down to is being confronted by a pile of accumulated Stuff, which has to be put together on the day of the premiere (the best-laid plans of mice and men generally fail to support me in this respect).  A few hours of sticking and cutting and swearing and tying is followed by me sitting with my tongue between my teeth and the German/English dictionary open, trying to think of witty or at least original things to say to all the wonderful people I've been working with, followed by my writing hand getting cramp halfway through because I'm so unused to writing things by hand.

Ah well, here goes.  And if anyone is wondering, there are some production pictures here, which frankly don't even start to show the messiest bits :-)

Well, thank god that's over with!!  The première of my first outing as a "professional actress" was yesterday, and I am so relieved to say it all went swimmingly.  The energy of the thing as a whole was overwhelming, and I am proud to have been part of such a wonderful production.  Didn't hurt, of course, that I got a great round of applause after one of my exit lines, which was totally unexpected and led to me thumping the air on the way offstage (well, if you don't have anything to sing, you have to make the most of what you do have, right?).  I suspect I rather irritated the backstage crew (the instinct of those near me was to duck) at this point, only to make it far, far worse a little later, when one of the props workers, a stunningly beautiful and elegant woman hefting a raft full of tulips, ran splat into a mirror set into one of the flats, and I collapsed into giggles with a colleague.  Really, these things shouldn't be quite so funny.  But, erm, they are ;-)  Especially when you're due on stage a few seconds later, composed, dignified and definitely not giggling fit to burst.

Mostly I was relieved to have delivered my eccentrically bilingual lines in the right order.  However at a couple of points I was surprised by a slightly different sort of energy than I'd been used to - more angry, I think - and was interested to note the difference it made.  Once again, the magic of the première does its stuff...  This also worked, I am happy to say, with the improvised audience participation episode.  Somehow I managed to witter away convincingly to strangers.  I reduced one poor man to blushing silence, but his female companions were made of sterner stuff and bantered back with me.  Still, I don't mind admitting that I was bloody glad when the dialogue started up again, even if I was always conscious that there was a cameraman (solo scenes being transmitted live and amplified on screens in the foyer and theatre) pretty much up my blasted nose.  Ugh!  I'm OK so long as I can't see any of the screens, but as my sight is still good, this is not easy to accomplish!  Never mind. Yet ANOTHER acting exercise...

Post-show, I was overwhelmed by advice to steal my grey wig.  I agreed with the impulse, but unfortunately the microphones we all had to wear went under the wig, over the tremendously flattering stocking and bandage keeping my own hair clamped to my skull.  Logistics were therefore against me. Otherwise, I really would have been tempted.

The post-première celebrations were rather fun this time.  Considering I was playing 70 years old, I was rather flattered to receive a proposal of marriage (I had reason to suspect that the young man who proposed was not, let us say, entirely sober at the time, so felt I had to decline...).  Really, though, as a singer you tend to hold back most of the time in order to keep the voice in decent singing order.  Very, very strange to think that all I need to do for these performances is speak.

I could get used to this :-)

Tonight sees the second performance of the Smetana. Saturday's première went very well, although it must be admitted that the audience was pretty much divided into those who loved the production and those who hated it, and there was a little bit of booing, which is always slightly disconcerting (although surely better than a lukewarm, uninterested reception). Personally, however, I enjoyed myself, and am looking forward to singing the role again tonight without all the rigmarole that surrounds a première.

It's got me thinking, though, about how exhausting it can be to sing the smaller roles. With a big meaty role, firstly you get the chance to make up for any slight snarl-ups (I've seen a tenor do this spectacularly; having stumbled dizzily through most of his part, he took a deep breath before the final high note, held it forever, and brought the house down); and secondly, you get to use up the adrenaline that your body produces, and in a healthy manner. It is my experience that the body gears up for any performance with the same amount of adrenaline. With small roles, you simply don't use it all up, and if left to its own devices, it can turn quite sour (for me this means I end up inexplicably tearful). For this reason, it is often useful to go out dancing after singing a smallish role (or at least, it's a good excuse!). Doesn't mean you don't get tired, of course. This particular role calls for singing only in the third act, however by that time I have already had three non-singing entrances in this production; meaning that I have to actually concentrate on what's going on at all times, instead of lounging around in my dressing room with my feet up... Hard work!

Worth it, though, to feel that whatever the length or difficulty of the part, one has maintained concentration throughout and kept enough energy going to sustain the production. I was (I think!) complimented on this at a colleague's party the day after the première (at which, I am proud to say, I spoke German throughout without too much bumbling). Someone who'd been in the audience beamed and said, oh despite it being a small part, "du warst immer pregnant"... I sucked my stomach in sharply and tried to sort out what they meant. To the best of my understanding, they were admiring my constant theatrical "presence" or "switched-on-ness". If anyone reading this is falling about with laughter and they really did mean that my costume was unflattering around the middle, please don't ever tell me!!

THANK YOU!

Thanks to all of you whose thoughts, spells and good wishes buoyed me up so much yesterday night. Thanks to those friends and colleagues who turned up to cheer - you were wonderfully loud :-) (yes OK I'll hand over the promised cash now, just don't tell anyone...). Thanks especially to Rosalind for the honour of your presence, and your support and encouragement. (Obviously here's where I am meant to thank my parents for everything, and of course I am grateful to them from the bottom of my heart; but any more of this and I am going to be forced to wear a sickly pink dress and burst into saccharine and eternal tears!!)

Thanks to all those who brought or sent flowers. They were all beautiful. My dressing room ended up being a multicoloured florist's nightmare - how glorious!

The astute may be able to guess from the above that the première went well! Judging from the reactions, it would appear to have been a huge success. I unfortunately don't remember an awful lot about it. (I would hasten to add that this is due to the effects of an adrenalin rush, rather than alcohol - a première tends to increase the effect of that naturally-produced drug, and I really believe that the more one is actually "in the moment" on stage, the less one consciously remembers.) I have a distinct memory of falling hard to the floor, losing both shoes in the process, having unexpectedly encountered the edge of the pool on a wild-eyed screech around the stage; on my way down I had time to think, well this is ironic, given how much I am meant to fall intentionally in this piece; and once down, a slightly hysterical "BUGGER! Now what do I do?" sprang fully-formed into my mind. Absolutely no idea how that resolved itself, but it appears it did; I definitely had shoes on when next I remember surfacing from my immersion to wonder whether I'd actually chipped a tooth whilst manhandling the poor tenor in a vicious rage...

I loved it. Loved being part of what I believe is a world-class performance; loved the way my fabulous colleagues were on fire with inspiration; loved the reaction!

THANK YOU ALL!!!

Première!!!

I absolutely cannot believe that the rehearsal process for this opera started on the 24 February. I had to look back through these odd ramblings to check. It feels like last week. Not that I feel unprepared; simply that the time has flown by, and the production still feels fresh. I really love Strauss's way of writing for the voice - it feels as though you are acting and reacting in real time - the vocal line is such an integral part of the acting that you almost forget you're singing.

Almost. In order to give my voice the best chance to shine tonight, I've been keeping very quiet today. It has been a beautiful Spring day here, thank goodness, and a long and peaceful wander along the banks of the Rhine, watching the sunlight sparkling on the water (very dark blue today) and the strange shadows of the avenue of pollarded plane trees, aching to burst into bud any day, did my soul no end of good. I find that a walk like that does more to calm my nerves and bring me into a decent perspective than just about anything else.

Funny how different roles require different preparation on performance days. Herodias just uses so much malicious and terrified nervous energy that I even felt the need to sneak back into bed after lunch for a snooze. I am in awe of singers who have busy family lives (I know a few!) for whom this would be the ultimate unattainable luxury! I'm just about to take a bath, having run the bath some time ago (an occasion, I thought, for my favourite Farmacia di Santa Maria Novella bath salts - welcome opulence!). My voice is partial to a bit of steam. Then a gentle and gradual warm-up while I dress for the première party (nothing too over-the-top - this IS Germany! However I am immensely honoured to have the wonderful Miss Rosalind Plowright as my guest tonight, and have no wish to look like a scruffy gypsy next to her habitual elegance!).

Before setting off for the theatre I'll run through my mental checklist - have I gone over the score thoroughly? Yes. Remembered the toi-toi cards? Yes (they're in an envelope tied to the door, so I can't forget them!). Painted my claws? Yes (evidence appended above). Right. In that case, SHOWTIME!!! I can't wait.

Extraordinary, really, how difficult it can be to gauge the right energy for starting a rehearsal mid-opera. This morning we carried on from where we'd previously left off - a disturbingly confused scene, thrilling with energy, at the end of which I am left broken on the floor. However without the manic run-up, it was a real effort to summon up the requisite feelings and I found myself a lot more tired, vocally, than I had previously been. (Nothing worrying, and quite to be expected, seeing as how we'd repeated again and again a part where I break out into a self-righteous and triumphant yowl, written pretty much without breathing spaces to get a particular effect, all the while wrestling with a wriggling and angry tenor. Well, not really angry, and come to that, half the time not really wriggling either. He'd had the same energy dip as me - not to mention, wasn't one hundred percent averse to a woman in high heels and slinky dress grabbing him from behind and holding on tight...).

I am very grateful at this point, with such all-encompassing music surging through my veins, to have the luxury of distraction. Yesterday I watched a live webcast of a Rameau opera in which a friend was singing (fabulous! and very, very funny); this evening I am looking forward to a Bellini Romeo and Juliet featuring my colleagues. I love premieres; I have fished out a sexy evening dress, bunged my hair up and carefully fixed in the glorious winged diamante earrings which make me feel so glamorous. The fact that I'm now going to stick a leather jacket over the lot and cycle to the theatre is neither here nor there; and I may have mentioned before that cycling is fantastic if you're wearing ridiculously high shoes - you don't really have to walk far! I intend to take my time cycling, too - spring is in the air. Yesterday for the first time this year I went jacket-free during the day, and even though the sun has now set, the birds in their spring frenzy haven't yet realised, so the air is rich with their song.

Excuse me while I go and paint my claws blood-red in preparation!

Première!

Yes, drag queens of my acquaintance, you may well weep with jealousy! This is my costume for the last act, comprising pink/red bodice and full, trailing skirts (interesting when performing the can-can), with clashing silky bolero and over all that a fake leopard-skin sleeveless gown. You don't really get the full effect of the orange nail varnish, unfortunately, but you can see the hair backcombed, white streak to the fore, swept up high and added to with various feathers, and a pirates' treasure chest of clashing sparklies (a colleague's young son was hugely impressed when he visited my dressing room - "Are these all yours?" he asked. I came out with my best evil laugh, and shrieked "Mine, ALL mine...", at which point of course the Intendant (yep, the one who's in charge of the whole shebang) popped in to say hello... Goodness, but my timing is wonderful!)

I managed to get to the theatre in very decent time, considering (a) a car ran into me en route - no harm done, it just sort of slid, but rather disconcerting, and (b) when I'd opened my mouth to start warming up, an eerie bagpipe-like wail and thumping beat started up right outside the window. Turkish wedding, I think - I suspect it's more fun if you're actually taking part. Anyway, I managed to distribute my toi-toi cards - not as easy as it sounds, as not everyone has a dressing room so you have to physically hunt them down, and the whole team seems to be prowling around restlessly before curtain-up. I also discovered, by trial and error, a few faux pas when it comes to wishing people well - firstly, you don't say thanks at all when wished toi toi (this feels weird, as all I managed to do after that was sort of dip my head regally!), and secondly, you don't wish anyone toi toi (often done by making spitting noises over their shoulder) until they're in costume. Which is awkward if you're not due in make-up until the curtain rises, and your costume is one of those where it's not easy to nip to the loo... I think I was more exhausted by negotiating the pre-première rituals than I was by the performance!

Everything went swimmingly, I believe - the audience certainly loved the production, which of course is the main thing. I remembered my German words, had fun with my aria, then breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to just enjoy myself throughout the rest of the opera. The director's excellent work showed in such a slick and funny production, it looked absolutely stunning, in terms of both set and costume, and sounded great. I am so lucky to have been a part of this. All (ha ha) we have to do now is retain the same energy in each performance - there's another one tomorrow (Monday) and then they're dotted throughout the calendar until late next Spring. I'm looking forward to them!