Got up in the morning, barely. Greggs for a bacon butty and a coffee before I was really fully awake. Most of the way to Greenwich before the colour started seeping into the world. Random workshop time!
Lots of shouting. Lots of troubleshooting. Some inspiration. Did it land? Perhaps it did.
By noon I’m knackered. But by noon I’m finished. I wander out into the hazy sunshine and try to remember which industrial estate I hid Bergman in.
The phone goes just as I’m about to go back under the river. Lou has two tickets to the final rehearsal for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Glyndebourne.
I’ve been really curious about this one, and it’s not an easy ticket. U turn and I’ve got to be there by ten to three. Satnav has me arriving at 2.55pm and I’ve only got about ten miles of petrol. My foot goes DOWN.
I think Peter Hall directed this originally in 1981 and they mothballed it so they could roll it out every few years. It’s archaeology and opera all rolled into one now. Lovingly restored prop trees are held by painted actors for hours. “Yes I work at Glyndebourne as an actor.” “Oh really, who are you playing?” “DON’T COME AND SEE IT.” Apparently one time one of them listened to an audiobook every show.
It is as camp as Christmas. Shiny shiny big moustaches wigs LOOK HOW MUCH WE SPENT oooh Magic LOOK fairies. The youngest cast member gets the most dangerous fly. There’s a huge burning brazier on stage. Most of the staging of this was a new show? There’d be some humourless booklicker killing all the fun for ‘elf and safety. It wouldn’t be the artifact it is, and right now I’m in an artifact head. Antiquities on the radio, old fashioned remounts of shows that were esoteric when they were written? Sure. I’ll take some Benjamin Britten and some Peter Hall and that incongruous but brilliant countertenor reading of Oberon. I know little about opera but like many many actors I know Dream inside out and back to front. I was finding joy in things that pinged when sung. It’s an rearranged, but the good stuff is all still there and it’s a fun show.
Sometimes I found myself remembering important early drama school lessons. “Why did you walk over there in the scene?” “The director told me to.” “But why did you do it?” “So I wouldn’t upstage the other actor?” “No, why did your character walk over there?” “I dunno.” “You need to know. Otherwise it’s just an actor doing interesting walking and we can all see it has no truthful purpose.”
There’s always a bit of interesting walking in opera, and remounted shows will often be blocked from the book of the previous cast. It felt like there was a bit of that tonight, but it’s a final dress rehearsal. This is gonna be another extraordinary show for Glyndebourne and I’m only sad that it’s so hard for almost everyone to be able to engage with the place and the work that goes on here. I’ve been really fortunate to have Lou help me educate myself in a form that would likely otherwise have stayed totally opaque to me.
Dream always works. That’s the wonder. Doesn’t matter if it’s performed by the England cricket team. It still works. I’m back in London now. Glad I had the time. Now I’ve got to go to sleep…
AlBarclay 