6 hour rehearsal reserved for today, to finish blocking. All Leading Fella and me, all the time.
With this show only populated by four people playing all the roles, we are all (but the lead, who has his own giant bag of tricks to carry) pulling multiple characters out of our pockets and throwing them around…and it was odd to have that team cut down to just two today, though really nice in the kind of specificity it brought.
…The prime key of what MY women bring to the piece (versus those of the clowns) is the “sex” of the show. At all times, in all positions, with any possible flavor of innuendo…we have gone full speed ahead. Which (when working with someone you’ve never worked with before) can get reeeeeally uncomfortable reeeeally quickly.
…Only it isn’t, and hasn’t ever been. Not even a little. For reasons I will prob’ly never understand.
Well…I might have sorta contributed to that at some point. Like the time, early this week, when I came to rehearsal just after shoving an onion-filled burger into my face, and while stretching on the stage said something like, “Yeah, I ate the most awesome onion of all time on my burger just now…so I hope you like the taste of lukewarm Walla-Wallas.”
…To which He replied something like,”Welp, I’ve been burping up my lunch all day, so we’ll just swap flavors and be good to go!”
…And we were.
…He kept burping ‘tween love scenes, and I kept reeking of 12-year-old-boy-feet.
We were just disgusting. Together. And it’s been a beautiful stage marriage, ever since.
This kind of thing helps considerably, when you have a rehearsal day set up like today’s: All sex. All the time.
…How many suggestive positions can we possibly sink into this sucker? How many crotch-shots, boob-facials, accidental butt-slaps, hand-grazes, lip bites, ear nibbles, body-straddles, cock-teases, fingernail scrapings, bed-positions, whiskey-shots, handcuff bits, garter-belt-popping, and lap dances can you find a home for in a script that just screams for sex, like Noir film in heat?
A lot. Come to find out.
A. Whole. Fucking. Lot.
…And this was only the “preliminary” pass at it. THIS was only “blocking.” What comes with the finesse, and character study, and bit-work later, God only knows. “More,” certainly. A refined style of it, slipped in…with layers, some subtle, and some…very much NOT.
For some reason, “comedy” means you can get away with a lot more with the general viewership, than the straight stuff. I promise you that if we were doing half of what we did just today, on a stage, in a straight show, there’d be seats thumping closed and feet rushing through the theater doors to the lobby faster than a run on a toy store at Christmas. People’s comfort level and self-righteousness grows like leavened bread in those kind of circumstances. I have no idea why. But bedroom farce is just this whole other world of a thing. And in all my time in theatre, this is the ONE discipline of sex that I have NOT been asked to do as yet, on a stage.
…I gotta say, it is really quite liberating.
And fun!
…Especially when you aren’t working with a creepy, greasy, tongue-thrusting, boob-grabbing, sleazoid.
Frankly, I’ve just totally made out like a bandit! A funny dude, whose game for the outrageously embarrassing, in a tag-team environment!
Plus, just doing the show is gonna get me more “action” than I’ve had in the past mffrrrtmmfa-MONTHS.
HOT DAMN!
Let the sexing-up begin!
~D
