Rachel Mock

                                     This is Rachel Mock.

She is young, attractive, witty, smart, shy in a most charming way. Five minutes after you meet her you will fall in love with her. Guaranteed.

Unless somebody gives her a sword …

Or a gun … (photo by Craig Lawrence)

Rachel is the fight coordinator for our production of OF MICE AND MEN, and she is very good at what she does.  

Every once in awhile I've been fortunate enough to inlist the services of just the right person for the job. Every once in awhile I've been fortunate enough to actually recognize greatness on the way up. 

Watch for this one. You will see her again.

j

Funny, I Never Quite Get Tired Of This.

Teapots and daughters

Because I never saw a teapot I didn't want, my daughter gave me this one for Christmas ....

.. and because she wanted to be sure I understood the sentiment behind the gift, she made and included the sign.

My daughter

My Candle Burns At Both Ends

My candle burns at both ends,

it will not last the night.

But ah my foes, and oh, my friends,

it gives a lovely light.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

     Auditions for OF MICE AND MEN are in 5 days. Auditions for ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA are in 14 months. There are people eager to start work on both productions now. Uh-huh. Unfortunately I'm one of them. Suggestions?

     My writing partner completed the writing of her novel based on the play we co-authored. I'm most interested in reading the ending. In the play the bad guy is eventually dispatched by the good guy. In an early version of her book, the bad guy (who is not overly bright) tries to shoot it out with the three thousand attendees at a police marksmanship competition ... (or something to that effect. I remember it was a whole bunch of people). In a way I'm sorry she's not going with that ending - it had a Butch Cassidy sort of feeling about it. So now she has this new ending that she is excited about. Since she is an excellent writer, I can't wait.

     I got a new stove today. Not that anything was wrong with the old one. A friend of mine inherited furniture and asked several of us if we wanted any of it. The stove was better than mine - more bells and whistles, so I said yes. It arrived today. I put the old one out on the curb for garbage pick-up tomorrow ... (and yes, I called first). Ten minutes after I set it out, an old man in an old truck picked it up and drove away. Free enterprise. Don't ya love it?

     While the movers were here, they carried an antique library-style bookcase from my living room up to my study on the third floor. I had loaned it out for a play, and didn't at all remember it being that heavy when it came down. I have my living room back. My joy knows no bounds.

     All the foreign restaurants within 40 miles of my door are either Mexican or Oriental. I don't mind, I suppose, but a little variety would be appreciated. I mean, if I want an occasional real draft Guinness, why do I have to go all the way to Disney World to get it? Not fair. Other people eat at English Pubs and Russian Tea Rooms. Other people eat Hungarian and Spanish and Italian and German. Here even Tim Horton's has "Americanized." Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!! 

     The Republican Party has started gathering forces together (already) for the next Presidential election. With one or two exceptions, the candidates are a pretty sorry looking bunch. There is talk that Sarah Palin might run. Every Democrat in the world hopes so - I'm convinced the woman is an idiot.

     Speaking of which, the other Sarah (Ferguson) appeared on TV earlier today. She confessed to the world that for years she has been an "utter and complete fool." To the best of my knowledge, not one person has disagreed with her.

     On the other hand, don't you think we need at least a few people like these in our lives? I mean, the occasional cold water of creative utter stupidity thrown in your face causes at least a jot of involuntary response in even the most jaded of temperaments.

     Aw well. Sorry. Sort of got off the theatre fence tonight, if that's what you were expecting. Sometimes - too often - with the work I do and love, it's far too easy to forget that there's another world if I simply choose to see it. And Will Rogers was right - "I never met a man I didn't like." And that's how I feel as well. If I run out of stories, it's because I've stopped listening.

     As before, it's late, and I feel much better after our conversation. You really are the best of company.

j   

Another Openin' Another show ...

     Auditions for OF MICE AND MEN are now two weeks away. I'm ready. I've augmented the crew I had on the last play with a few specialists - one being a fight coordinator. I've never used a fight coordinator before. This one is warm and friendly - until she has a gun or a dagger in her hands. I've not worked with her before, but I've seen the results of her efforts. Impressive. Should be interesting.

     About every actor I know has contacted me - they all want in the play. If half of them actually show up for auditions, I will have a galloping good cast. And of course it helps that I have one of the best scripts I've ever worked with.

    The play has a large number of men and only one woman. Since the main woman's dressing room is quite large, I'm tempted to move her somewhere and use that area for farm animals. (I'll have to look - I'm sure there's a form that covers things like this.) Several women I know are interested in the role - it's a chance for an actress to die on stage ... on purpose.

    More relaxed now. Paperwork is done, forms forms forms, audition forms, character break-downs, rehearsal schedules, budgets, publicity, yadda yadda yadda. The "director packet" of papers alone is a dozen pages long. I suppose this should bother me, except I have no plan to actually read any of it. I've worked with this group before, I know what they want. As long as the shows I direct for them make money, everybody is happy.

     I do miss the days before spirit-killing contracts - when a handshake was enough.

     I've had almost all my pre-show meetings. One more to go. I meet with the set decor artist on Friday. I love the designs I've seen so far. The set is going to be light and airy.  At the moment I don't know who is going to build the set. At the moment I don't care.

     And there you have it - a theatre director's version of a pre-flight check list. I'll let you know how it goes. Count on it.

j

Pictures

Facebook offered to assemble a collage of my friends. This is way too cool.

j

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

- Lt. Colonel John McCrae, 1915

My time of day ...

     There's a song from GUYS AND DOLLS that starts out "My time of day is the dark time, a couple of deals before dawn ..." I think that fits me. The quiet outside my door seems to express the quiet I feel inside.

     I am tired, tired. Weary. Staging two major plays back to back is bad enough, but yesterday I was forwarded a message from the witch who manages the theatre building we just vacated, accusing us of stealing furniture! Fortunately someone in our group reached her (today) before I could. Just as well. Tell me - have you ever met someone who irritates you just by breathing? That's her. For the past year I've dealt  with her through others, because when I'm forced to face her directly, in no time at all I'm so angry that I become something less than articulate.

     My writing partner is now finishing the book based on the play we co-authored. Watching her progress has been fascinating to me. She has fleshed out countless allusions and given depth to the words that normally would only come alive when spoken by an actor. A year or so ago we started writing a novel together that remains in rough draft and wanting an ending. Perhaps when she finished this one, we may go back to that one. I think I hope so.

     All quiet on the political front at the moment. The economy is so poor that schools across the country are drastically cutting back on arts funding of any sort. In a way this is benefiting our  theatre group, as we have taken on a number of fresh-faced interns, eager to please. (And we, of course, are eager for them to be eager.)

     There is one small announcement that is of interest. It is rumored that Sarah Palin may soon announce that she is running for President. I think that would be grand. She is the eternal fountain from which any number of genuinely funny jokes spring fourth. I have looked over the group of Republicans who have already announced their lackluster candidacy. They are a singularly bland bunch.

     I saw on television that former California Governor Schwarzenegger has announced that he is indeed the father of the boy born to one of his servants. It's sad to admit that we, the people, are so jaded that this crumb of information will do nothing but enhance his career as a movie actor.

     I have been truly blessed by the fact that, although it has rained fiercely over the past few months, my house has neither been blown nor washed away. Since I live on the sheltered side of a high hill, storms tend to go around rather than over me. The water in the stream below would have to rise by more than 80 feet to invade my backyard.

     I have added another name to my BFF list. It is "Open The Pod Bay Doors, Hal." If you like movie lore and observations, you might find this man interesting.

     It is now twenty minutes to four, and the sun is throwing pre-shadows over the city to my right. I think I can sleep now, fully sated. As always, thanks for the company.

j

Updates

     ZACK has closed. It was a good play. The best performance was the last one - it took the cast awhile to "get it." To properly express casual British humor is generally a blue mystery to a number of American performers (certainly to the ones in my cast.) Eventually we discovered where the laughs came and mimicked the actions that provoked positive responses, without (I suspect) never being entirely sure why the reactions came. Clueless we were. But eventually the show took a lumbering leap forward, drew audiences, made money, and everybody went away happy ...

    I was not there for set strike. I was working on another project the day the walls were dismantled and the furniture was covered and trucked away. Just as well - not only did the show close. but the theatre as well. The building will be turned into office space, and the auditorium - minus the stage - will become the temporary home for a church. I wish them well - and also luck. The ghost of Richard III roams the halls, as does Eliza Doolittle, Puck, Major Barbara, and Puff the Magic Dragon.

     I've started work - pre-production stuff - on the next play I'm directing, OF MICE AND MEN. Different play, different theatre. I've been given a real luxury here - allowed to name my own crew. So, with the exception of the stage manager, I brought the entire ZACK crew over to the new project. Happy me.

     So. There you are. And there I am. New project. New goals. New expectations. And I'm all set to start, anxious even. I'm starting tomorrow. Right after lunch. Tomorrow. Sometime tomorrow.

     j

Night lite

 It's nearish to 1 a.m. Close enough.

ZACK opened to a quite receptive audience Friday night. The show was well received, and the comments were all positive, if carefully considered. What does that mean? I had hoped for gibbering hysteria. On the other hand, the after-the-show crowd hung around until we had to (politely) throw them out in order to close the theatre. So I suppose we did well. This production was not scheduled for a review, and that's too bad. I would have liked validation for our efforts.

I'm scheduled to review HAMLET for a small theatre group tomorrow night. I've seen the actor in the lead role before, and have always respected and admired his work. In appearance and speech, he reminds me of James Mason. I plan to have an enjoyable evening.






Speaking of Shakespeare, I have just committed to direct ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA next spring. Although the announcement won't be made public by the theatre for at least another month, I have already received a number of phone calls from talented and heavy-breathing actresses. I think I'm gonna like my job.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will mention that I'm directing OF MICE AND MEN, starting in mid June, and have been receiving phone calls from men interested - very - in the lead roles. Yeah yeah. Wait your turn.




A friend of mine is directing a play - I don't know the name - which opens the first of June. She asked me today if I had a rowboat I could loan her for the production and/or several large fake boulders. As it turns out, I have a Styrofoam boulder. I used it in an Easter cantata, and the thing has been in the trunk of my car ever since.

My writing partner attended a meeting of movie makers (and the purpose of this gathering was not disclosed to me). She was the only writer, and coincidentally, the only woman. After the meeting she started a ten minute script, and dyed her hair brunette. Okay ...

Would you call a friend and ask if he or she had any large fake rocks you could borrow? I'm not sure which bothers me more - that she asked, or that I did.

Well, it's now close onto 3 a.m. and I've rambled on enough to bore myself to the point of sleep. As always, I've enjoyed your company.

j
 

ZACK, part 2

The play opens this Friday. Dialogue is heavy into character building. I'm beginning to have a greater respect for the playwright - the humor manages to be subtle and broad at the same time.

I've Americanized the work in that I'm not having the cast speak with a British accent (which we do badly). The costuming reflects an American perception of British dress, rather than an attempt to be realistic. This became painfully obvious when I stumbled across the London cast picture, above, and compared it to our own, below.

j

ZACK

Started construction on the set for the play ZACK.
 

There are no walls, just the bare frames where walls would be. It might be really really good.

... or it might be really really not.

j

Saturday morning, 9:42

     It's Saturday morning. I'm sitting here watching CNN for headlines. I just finished eating a chocolate doughnut that I most certainly should not have even considered ...

     Last night I saw THE LATE CHRISTOPHER BEAN at  a theatre that had at one time been an automobile service station - intimate, but oddly enough it works. I finished writing the review (comments were positive, but not rave) at 2:55 this morning. I think fast, but I type slowly. I like to look at words on whatever passes for paper in a computer.

     At 5 this afternoon I'll drive to a smallish church to direct the rehearsal for an original Easter opera (that may prove to be not terrible after all. I'm a firm believer in miracles, and always surprised when they happen.) By 7:30 I will have driven like a madman to the theatre where I'm directing a rehearsal for the play ZACK. (And no, I don't usually schedule two different rehearsals in the same day.)

     But all that is later. Right now I'm fighting the dog for doughnut crumbs. (And I'm winning! He's faster than I am, but I'm bigger.) Nope. Sorry. His eyes just gazed over and he went to sleep. Great. My dog thinks I'm boring.

     I'm over my cold. Sorta. More or less. In a way, I regret it. When I'm well, it's much harder to get people to peel the skin off of grapes for me. Oh well, I'm accustomed to certain hardships.

     My best friend is selling most of her stuff and planning on moving into a tiny house. (Literally a tiny house - a home built on a truck bed.) I've thought about it. I've always wanted to run away and join a gypsy caravan, and live in a wagon ... with a fully functioning bathroom ... and another wagon following behind with my stuff. Maybe two wagons. Three at the most.

     So. There you have it. If I quit now, I think i can squeeze in a nap before lunch.

     I love Saturdays, don't you?


j