Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: The Tent (Page 3 of 5)

The Tent

A preview pic.

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The Tent is opening

There is no denying it. I feel fear. I have been denying it; and it manifested this weekend in a spot of flu. Yesterday I was grumpy and on edge and I even shouted at the cast! I spent a lot of time huffing and puffing, and whining. Pathetic.

I have begged for patience from the theatre gods this morning. I’m going to need it. Today we plot lights. A cast of eight, spending time doing nothing except be there for the lights to be ‘made’.

In two days time we have our first audience. Just writing that down makes it hard for me to breathe. The shift from ‘showcase’ to full production, with a two week run, and crits and important people, and how it will be received, is constantly on my mind.

I am going to stop writing now. I’m sweating too much!

The sleep deprivation energy

I couldn’t stay asleep last night. Every single thing that I need to do in this lifetime decided to come into my brain. As the one thing left, there was a new thing in its place. It stacked up to quite a lot of things. I imagine it’s going to be an interesting day. We are really in a sort of crunch time with The Tent rehearsals. By the end of today, all character, dynamic, emotional work must be locked off and set, because from tomorrow we start getting technical.

I am in an excited state of panic. By the end of every day I am beyond exhaustion, and then I wake up at about three in the morning and it’s over. What this has also meant is that, aside from TheatreSports commitments and performances, I have had a one tracked mind, and haven’t been able to go and see anything else theatrical.

I can’t wait for next week, when The Tent finally opens. That brings with it new feelings of total hysteria, but at least it will be of the ‘no going back’ kind.

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Grace

Every day for the last while I have been choosing one word for my status. Sometimes they are silly or funny; sometimes they are serious, personal or meaningful. Today’s word was grace. I love that word. It has such a good attitude about it. And it is also a poetry word. So much so, it inspired my friend Phillippa Yaa De Villiers who left her whole, magnificent poem, Grace, as a comment.

It was an inspired choice of word for me too today because it epitomised how I am feeling about my work on . Loving it. I am filled with the grace of my cast, and the really beautiful work they are doing. They move from moment to moment like dancers, playing with nuance and meaning, emotion and technique, and I am learning from them and delighting in them. It’s a cast of eight, so I don’t want to go into detail about each one’s magnificence here. Instead I am going to list their names so you know who I am talking about. Sizwe Msuthu. Nicola Hanekom. Pierre Malherbe. Nelson Chileshe Musonda. Albert Pretorius. Leon Clingman. Deborah Vieyra. Lungelo Sitimela.

I am also graced with a brilliant technical team, stage manager, asm, crew. And the designer Alfred Rietmann, who, when he is not in his office, is scratching in the skip for builder’s junk to use for our set. He is from that old school of thought. Theatre runs in that man’s blood. He loves it. His love has no boundaries, work hours, limitations. He is one of those ‘anything is possible’ guys. I am so lucky to have him.

Tomorrow morning is when we do a full, proper run of the play. I am beside myself with everything. I am saying grace.

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Souffefrika

I just haven’t been able to blog regularly lately. My head is too full; of The Tent (rehearsals are going well), TheatreSports (we are busy performing, preparing our birthday week, organising a Saturday morning improvisation open class) and other stuff, both various and sundry.

I am also very tired this morning. Shots rang out in our quiet little Woodstock street at 1.30 last night and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Now, I am a gun hater and I really believe that all guns should be banned. I think it should be illegal to make, sell and carry guns. Finish and klaar. I run cold at the sound of gunshots and I fear the damage they cause.

But I have to confess, that after I discovered that the gun was fired by my neighbour, at a bunch of gangsters who had been caught stealing his car and had jumped into another getaway car, I was secretly relieved that somebody in our ‘hood was brave, and decisive and…had a gun. I am shocked that this is how I feel. I know that a gun in the most responsible hand can cause untold damage, and that mistakes happen and innocent people get hurt and killed. But secretly, I felt safer and here is why. As I lay awake, nervous and panicky and confused, I did not ever hear the sound of sirens nor the approach of the police. They just didn’t come. Ever.

More musings on The Tent

So I’m sure you can guess what’s occupying my brain (and heart) right now. I am reflecting a little after day three of rehearsals, and again I am thanking the crazy gods of theatre for the sequence of events that has brought these amazing actors into the rehearsal space.

I have always had a bit of a problem with writers who direct the plays that they have written, and here I am, doing just that. But, I have to say, I’m loving it. This work (of rehearsing) is so complex and layered, and so much more than what is on the page, that it is so exciting fleshing it out. And there is also the luxury of time to do it; this isn’t a rush job.

Naturally, while we are focusing so strongly on the making of the play, there is not enough time for me to market the thing. I hope people will want to come and see it. It’s amazing how I can give myself things to worry about hey? Obviously there is on Facebook. And I’m writing about it here, on meganshead. Doing last year’s showcase has helped get the word out there a bit. and a cast of eight will at least have friends and family to see it.

Ok, I’m going to let myself worry about something else now. Until tomorrow, day 4. And, I’m loving it.

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