Final dress: almost the end of the process and the start of the run. It’s a funny old process this putting on plays. I love moving in to the theatre. The hard (emotional) graft of the rehearsal process is behind you. You have a set and props and lights and music and effects to deal with now. The notes become extremely granular. The world of the play exists and all you’re doing is tiny, imperceptible tweaks to reach the level of excellence we all strive for.
Opening Night: No nerves. Just anticipation. Will the audience laugh, will they enter into the world, will they make the final connection to the circuit of the show so that the energy flows?
The Run: Routine, fun, exploration. Things go wrong. Life intervenes. The show is an organic, living thing. It changes from night to night. It is a joy to watch. This is probably the closest I can ever come to feeling a fraction of what parents feel. It’s scary, intense, overwhelming pride and love for the brave souls who ventured on this endeavor with me two (yes, only two) weeks ago. I am blissful even in the face of dying power supplies and overloaded cell networks.
And soon it will be over. But on to the next show. Rinse and Repeat.