Season Eight: Week 31

“Shakespeare is a catalyst.”

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Tuesday / April 9, 2019
Written by Emma

Facilitators were running on fumes as we circled up for check-in. The men’s ensemble had just completed four days of back-to-back performances, and earlier in the day the men had wrapped their season with an emotional final session. There was a good deal to share. Matt began, “Obviously, there are things that this (women’s) ensemble has taught me that the men’s ensemble couldn’t, but– ” He was interrupted by a returning member: “Be careful about what you’re gonna say, Matt!” With jokes out of the way, Matt went on to share some important takeaway lessons from the men’s season. The group listened intently, nodding along.

Together we raised the ring. After some much needed whooshing, the ensemble took their places to begin working. With rough blocking behind us, we had a loose game plan for the day: start from the top and see where things go.

Once situated, we were off! Shipwrecked zanni sailors stumbled down the aisles from the rear of the auditorium, picking imaginary kelp and small sea creatures out of one another’s hair. They were followed by a flustered Viola, delivering her lines without a script in her hands! She is an incredibly dedicated member, and the amount of time and effort she has been putting into learning her part was clear. This was among the first times this season that we’ve seen an actor completely off book—no small feat, with two months to go before performances. She and the Captain made their way to the front of the auditorium to finish the scene.

As soon as Viola and the Captain exited, Orsino unexpectedly burst through the curtain. She delivered her opening line with gusto—“If music be the food of love, play on!’—and launched us directly into the next scene. As she strutted across the stage, surrounded by the zanni posse (now acting as musicians), I realized something: she wasn’t reading from her script! Our Orsino had mentioned during check-in that she had been working on memorization (she described a “talent show” she put on in her unit that involved her reading lines), but this blew me out of the water! Her energy was infectious. The zannis, who in the previous scene were chuckling and not altogether in character, were now pulled in.

Without direction to do so, the ensemble moved on. Actors hopped out of the auditorium seats and made their way onstage, powering through their dialogue and blocking. Things were (of course) rough, but it was the first time this season when this many scenes were run back-to-back. And for every rough patch, there was a shining moment. Highlights included Malvolio maneuvering across the stage with a military stiffness that perfectly epitomized his uppity disposition, Maria deftly delivering her dialogue (yep, she’s off book, too!), and Sir Toby skillfully stumbling from point A to point B with a mug held high overhead.

We made it through almost the entire first act of the play before coming to a stop after some jumbled entrances and exits. “Did we plan to run nonstop like that?” Frannie asked the group. We, in fact, had not—it seemed the ensemble as a whole had known what it needed.

After the dust settled, we regrouped in the center section of the auditorium. We spent some time reflecting on some of the technical aspects of what happened—hammering out entrances and exits, discussing things that we did and didn’t like. “I feel like we need more of a connection—like, we could be more back and forth,” our Maria said to Sir Toby. The relationship between these two characters is simple on the surface—Maria as the quick-witted woman who keeps the goofy Sir Toby on his toes—but in practice, establishing this is more complicated. The actors discussed ways they can expand their relationship and communicate the subdued romance that lives there. It will be exciting to see where this is come June!

“How are the zannis doing?” a returning member then asked our posse. During the final scene we ran, the zannis were more or less wandering around the stage, not sure where they should go or how they should get there. One of them responded, “I still am not sure what’s going on, honestly.” A look of frustration crossed her face. Without missing a beat, another returning member replied, “What is it we can do as an ensemble to help you do better? Because we need you.” The zanni shared that the plot (which, for the record, is quite complicated) was confusing her. The group heard her concern and worked together to think of solutions. At no point was anyone made to feel “bad” for not understanding. To the contrary, other ensemble members offered words of encouragement. We agreed that we will spend some time clarifying the plot of the scenes, and that everyone should feel comfortable speaking up whenever they don’t understand something. By the end of our discussion, the zanni’s look of frustration had melted.

As we raised the ring, I reflected yet again on the supportive nature of this group. How we take care of one another; how we not only hear, but listen. I think this sentiment was best summed up by our Orsino: “It’s called Shakespeare, try some!”

Friday / April 12 / 2019
Written by Matt

We started today with Act II! After a (mostly) triumphant run of the first act, everybody felt that it was important to forge ahead. Today’s session was back in the classroom, which is fine, but makes it hard to fully “stage” some of the scenes. As luck would have it, Act II scene i is especially tough to do in the classroom because most of the action happens in the house aisles, not onstage.

This scene introduces Antonio and Sebastian, and we have had to approach it gently from the beginning, since both actors are shy--Antonio is especially shy and self-conscious. We decided to try having them walk in circles, since there was no aisle to walk down, and the first run was very rough as we all dusted off the cobwebs. One of the women said that the scene really needed “more urgency,” and we tried to figure out what the crucial moments were.

“I think Antonio gay or something,” said our Antonio. “He just following this guy around.”

“Does that give you any other ideas?” asked Frannie, after affirming that sometimes Antonio is played that way. Our Antonio shook her head. “But it changes your objective,” Frannie offered. “You need to be chasing her and trying to stop her and, ‘Won’t you pleeeeeaaase stay with me!’” said an ensemble member.

As for Sebastian, one of the women had a suggestion for her, as she is pursued by Antonio: “You’re ready to go to the bar, man! ‘I need to get a drink and get away from these problems!”

The second run was much better, and the beginnings of a scene were already apparent. “I was more aggressive,” said Antonio. Frannie suggested that Antonio “be a puppy,” and one of the women nodded vigorously, saying, “they cry and whine if you get too far away!”

The third run was good, but the two actors’ inhibitions still got the best of them. What happened next was a great example of SIP in action: the entire ensemble rushed in to help--not to tell them what to do, but to figure out what the ensemble needed to do to allow the actors to do what they need to do. “Does it confuse you guys when we give you directions?” asked a woman who had been active in giving notes. “I don’t know!” said Sebastian, “I don’t know how to cue [Antonio] to follow me.” Antonio chimed in: “I’m nervous.” The first woman asked if it would help for everyone to turn the other way so there weren’t so many eyes on her.

Was it the audience that was the problem? “Yes,” said Antonio. “I’m really shy. I’ve always been that way, since I was a little girl.” Another woman, who usually keeps pretty quiet offered, “I also notice that you hide behind your script,” but somehow said that without sounding remotely judgmental or critical. “Maybe you could lower it.” She suggested forgetting about saying all of the words in every line, maybe focusing more on the first couple of words and making eye contact with intent.

At that, a veteran member leapt up with an idea: “I’ll do you one better,” she said, and suggested that we play Yes/No. Everyone jumped to their feet to play the game, including facilitators--it was freeing for everyone, and Antonio found herself loosening up as we played, eventually running around the room and giving a full-body laugh that seemed to help her shed some of the self-consciousness that was binding her up. “That’s what I’m talking about!” exclaimed one of the women afterwards.

As we prepared to run the scene one last time, an ensemble member suggested, “If you screw up the lines, just start saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” The result was… perfect! Antonio seemed connected to Sebastian with a bungee cord, as she bounced in and out of Sebastian’s way. The lines moved faster and with more intention. As Sebastian tried to leave the space on her exit, Antonio chased her into a corner, unwilling to stay behind (not a solution for staging the scene, but a beautiful example of following her objective all the way through).

For the rest of the session, we tried to run the Act II scene iii. The result was less than satisfying. It’s a complicated scene, with a lot of visual storytelling and a couple of crucial plot points. Its jokes simply aren’t funny if you can’t follow it. Frannie admitted to being completely lost when we finished stumbling through. All sorts of people had all sorts of ideas, but Frannie suggested that it might help if she brought in rough blocking for the scene on Tuesday, which might help give form to the ideas we have about the scene—she was having trouble articulating what she meant about using blocking to make the relatinoships clear. Everyone seemed happy with that, so we put up the ring and went our ways.

Season Eight: Week 30

“There is one place where I feel safe: Shakespeare.”

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Tuesday / April 2 / 2019
Written by Emma

Today, rehearsal began before the facilitators even pulled up to the facility. Two of the women, a returning member and a newbie, had been outside taking in the first rays of spring sunshine when the returning member surprised the other with an unexpected proposition. According to the newbie, “She busted out her script and said, ‘You wanna read Shakespeare lines?’” The duo proceeded to run dialogue from one of the many scenes they share. These sneak-attack Shakespeare rehearsals seem to be a recurring thing amongst our ensembles, and I can’t say we disapprove.

During check-ins, a longtime member updated the group on an exciting theatre project she has in the works. “I am going to be totally in my element—and I found a way to use some Shakespeare English in there.” The group chuckled and wished her well as we snapped. As the snaps died down, a supportive first season member said, “For you, a second round of snaps!” And another well-deserved round of snaps was given.

After lowering the ring, we picked up with blocking Act V Scene 1, the show’s finale, which features everybody and their grandma. It is the perfect cherry on top of our kaleidoscope-themed production. Loose ends are tied up, but not without some general disarray first. This one is a doozy. We began working our way through, hammering out the scene’s multitude of entrances and exits.

One of said entrances is that of an intoxicated Sir Toby. I, for one, was not prepared for what our Sir Toby was about to unleash. She expertly stumbled onto the stage, a plastic travel mug full of coffee in her wobbly hand. Sir Toby has been steadily drinking throughout the play, so it follows that in this final scene he is but a drop away from unconsciousness—an image our Sir Toby skillfully pulled off. At one point she tumbled to the ground, spilling some of the coffee. Our Feste noticed and rushed out of the room to grab some paper towels. On her way back into the auditorium, she was followed by an officer who inquired if things were ok. After quickly seeing they were, he smiled and walked back out. When Feste went to dispose of the coffee-stained paper towels, the officer asked why she had seemed so intense when she had initially come out. “I’m an actress!” she told him. “What did you expect?”

This evening, our Orsino experimented with expression. A newer ensemble member, she has truly thrown herself into the program and the role. At one point in the scene, Orsino finds out his love Olivia is married to another man (and isn’t too happy about it). With some encouragement from Frannie, Orsino turned the dramatics up to 11 and literally huffed and puffed her way up and down the auditorium aisles, stomping and exclaiming her anger. Later on in the scene, Orsino is shocked to discover that Viola/Cesario has a twin. Again playing with drama, Orsino spontaneously collapsed into a heap when she laid eyes upon Sebastian. Laughter shot through the ensemble. After all, who doesn’t love a nice dramatic faint?

Tonight we also had the pleasure of seeing the debut of the priest character. A returning member, our Priest is the queen of nonchalance, and her interpretation of the role is going to reflect that: she will actually portray an actor who is a “slacker” and has to be manhandled into reading the lines, let alone acting the part. It was decided that when Olivia sends her attendant to find the Priest, the latter will be lounging on the floor with one leg jutting out from behind the curtain, munching on a snack. As the Priest stood up to take her place on stage she said under her breath, “I gotta get my Cheetos.” “Are you method acting?” Frannie responded. “I have to!” the Priest replied coolly through a guarded smile, knowing what the reaction would be: a huge burst of laughter from Frannie.

The lounging Priest shtick was funny in theory, but in practice it was hilarious. When a frazzled Olivia sent her attendant to find the Priest, the attendant rushed around the stage in a panic. Then, seeing the lone leg, the attendant took hold of the Priest’s foot and pulled her out of hiding, set her upright, and dusted off her shoulders in an effort to make her look presentable. Throughout this process, the Priest continued to snack on crackers and yawn. The overall effect was excellent—another testament to the incredible comedic instincts in the ensemble.

Working through Act V Scene 1 was not all laughs, however. At this point in the process, things begin to feel a bit like the Oregon Trail—a slow, laborious journey through lands unknown. Weeks of blocking had left the group in a fog. Ensemble members both old and new were floating around the auditorium, often not where they needed to be. Some of those who were in their places simply stood or leaned, disengaging from the scene and their characters. After multiple reminders weren’t heeded, Frannie calmly addressed the whole ensemble and explained how frustrating this is, and how we all need to be involved in this part of the process. After Frannie finished explaining, a long-time ensemble member said, “I admire you, Frannie.” The ensemble member went on to explain how impressive it is that Frannie is able to be both assertive and compassionate, able to get her point across and channel frustration in a constructive way. Ladies and gentlemen, our fearless leader!

We powered our way through the remainder of the scene. When 8:15pm rolled around, we were fatigued, but a major milestone had been reached: we had officially finished blocking the entire play! Together, we raised a ring to that.

---

EMBASSY BALL GOES HORRIBLY AWRY, SHOCKINGLY WELL

YPSILANTI, Mich., Apr. 5 -- This year’s Embassy Ball saw the heights of drama and the lows of, well, drama. The famous Ball is the fanciest party for the season’s most fabulous people. Tonight’s guests, strange to say, were all characters from Twelfth Night. Whether this was intentional or accidental, we may never know.

What we do know is that there was a dastardly plot laid by an unnamed caterer/valet/butler/revolutionary, which left all of Shakespeare’s already unhinged characters without an ounce of reason among them.

The Ball was graced by the likes of the morose Lady Olivia of Illyria and EXACT LOOK-ALIKE twins Viola and Sebastian from Messaline. Also present were a mopey pirate named Antonio, intolerable (and sillily-named) ne’er-do-wells Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, notoriously self-serious bartender and project manager Maria, a hunting enthusiast named Curio (a servant of Count Orsino, who skipped the Ball to write the second act of his emo rock opera), a mysterious man who appears in the second act out of nowhere and calls himself “Fabian,” and a priest—but he was too lazy to have much effect on the party, despite the protestations of his attentive assistant. There was also Feste, who mostly wanted money and to sing long, boring songs, a curtain-puller, and a DJ. And a group of incorrigible zannis… actually, no one was sure where the zannis came from--they’re not even in the play as written.

But the night was only just beginning. Before it was through, these unsuspecting (if not undeserving) guests had been ensnared in a diabolical plot.

No sooner had the last guest arrived at the Ball then the anonymous revolutionary/caterer served up a milkshake that had something more than ice cream in it… because after imbibing, each character became—how to describe this?—more herself. Curio’s desire to hunt grew into an obsession; Olivia’s sadness turned into a crushing depression, Maria’s neat-freak side turned her into a cleaning machine (and a huge buzzkill), Sir Andrew and Sir Toby began compulsively pulling pranks on others, and the priest sank into a torpor so profound he needed help feeding himself.

But still, it would not stop. The caterer brought out a serving of Jolly Ranchers laced with more of the mysterious substance, which sent each character into an even fuller, less inhibited expression of herself. The Jolly Ranchers were followed by vegan meatloaf muffins, which did not please the hunt-happy Curio, but which had an effect on all assembled that was, like the caterer herself, revolutionary. (And, happily for Curio, the caterer had some venison meatloaf muffins in reserve.)

Fabian stole Sir Andrew’s things, a sword fight broke out for no reason, Curio demonstrated how to trap a bear, Toby curled into the fetal position and shivered when the subject of his unpaid bar tab came up, and the zannis began arresting people.

Then, all at once, with the after-dinner mint, the fog of disinhibition that had invaded the Ball evaporated. Whatever devious chicanery or sabotage the caterer had intended did not come to pass. The worst Embassy Ball in a generation (or at least since the Hobbyhorse Incident during Richard III’s Ball) somehow ended without bloodshed, loss of limbs, or madness (well, except the zannis, but, again, no one could actually remember what they were doing there).

The plot was foiled. Or, we were left to ask ourselves as the guests averted their eyes and shuffled towards the exit, was this the plot all along?

The Embassy Ball Corp., LLC did not immediately respond to interview requests, but sources close to the organization say that the Ball Corporation’s event planner, booking coordinator, and hapless intern have been fired.

--

Embassy Ball, which one of our veterans called “Welcome to the Party,” is a Theatre of the Oppressed game in which people arrive at a party as a character and improvise as they are served successive doses of a “drug” that accentuates their personalities. At the end of the game, they are served the “antidote,” and return to the baseline of the character. The game has all sorts of versions and uses, but it is a good way to play around with your character, once you’ve been cast. At this point, even our newbies have a pretty good sense of who their character is, and Embassy Ball offers them a space to experiment without needing to memorize lines or blocking.

To be honest, many of the women were not thrilled about playing Embassy Ball. It is one of the complications of this season that we have a small group of members who love improv and a bunch of people who are really scared by it. Half of the ensemble initially tried to sit the game out, until Frannie made it clear that this game really couldn’t be optional—it is a safe, no-pressure way to learn more about your character, and we can’t afford to shy away from things like this so late in the season.

Eventually, just about everybody took part, and the result was described (in an admittedly silly way) above. As with all Theatre of the Oppressed games, the most important part was the debrief afterwards. There were all sorts of fun things that people did--Curio’s insistence on drinking a venison-flavored milkshake, the priest getting so lazy that he had to be force-fed--but a few of them seemed really important to the play:

• Sir Andrew realized that her character is totally myopic--so much so that he doesn’t actually understand anything else that’s happening in the play, or know who the other characters are.

• One of our backstage crew decided that she really wanted to micromanage the actors, which gave us all sorts of ideas for shtick.

• Our sound guy/DJ was just looking for anyone authorized to pay her.

• Fabian found that her character really “wanted to be where the action was.”

• One of the zannis said “I was everywhere! I was doing everything!” and really running the show.

Perhaps most importantly, our Olivia and Maria discovered their characters’ bond: they are the smartest people in Illyria, and they needed to cling together to keep from getting overwhelmed by the maelstrom of buffoonery that whirled around them.

After discussing, we played another, much sillier game: Talk Show. In this game, a “host” questions a “guest” on an imaginary TV interview show. Meanwhile, members of the ensemble shout out states of mind (distraught, confused, angry, evasive, philosophical, etc.), and the “guest” needs to assume that state of mind instantly as she continues answering questions. We gave it a twist--the same twist we gave Embassy Ball: the women had to play their Twelfth Night characters.

There were a lot of really funny moments, although most of them would suffer in retelling. We have some very talented improvisors, and they were absolutely in their element. Most of the shy ones stayed away, although our Olivia gave a command performance on “Teen Mom: The New Edition,” where she was interviewed by Viola.

In the end, Talk Show was more fun than substance. That’s fine sometimes, but it was also frustrating to watch so many people still sitting on the sidelines. Not everyone loves doing improv, and we don’t force anybody to do anything, but the challenge of this season has been that a small group of people has too often been carrying the weight for everybody else.

Next week, we’ll need to chalk up some “wins” to keep our momentum up.

Season Eight: Week 29

“You can’t steal my Shakespeare sunshine!”

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Tuesday / March 26 / 2019
Written by Coffey

Our session tonight began with a little dramaturgy. One of the women shared with the group the story of the Globe Theatre, one of the crazier Shakespearean anecdotes which goes something like this: When Shakespeare was a member of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, the company primarily did their work in a theater called simply “The Theater” in central London. The Theater was owned by some of the actors in the company, but the land the theater was on was only rented, and in around 1598 the lease was up. The landlord tried to lay claim to the building in addition to the land, but the Lord Chamberlain’s Men would not have that. Shakespeare and his fellow actors, dressed as soldiers, dismantled the entire theater, brick by brick, and moved it to a new piece of land. This retelling doesn’t have a modicum of the energy and color this woman’s retelling had. Her excitement and amusement were infectious.

Our Maria shared that she was getting ready to be off-book. “I need to get rid of the safety net, “ she said, “Because if it’s there I need to look.” Our Captain shared with the group that she is considering making her character female. “I just think we haven’t done it yet...and I want the outfit to be super cute.”

“Does the gender of the character matter?” Frannie asked. “I don’t think it does,” the woman replied. The group discussed the pros and cons of playing a man and whether changing the character’s gender would have any bearing on the play itself. Ultimately, the Captain decided on being female. “Alright. I’ll just do it.”

We spent most of the night working on Act IV, scene ii. Our new Feste was working through the scene for the first time, and the rest of the team really rose up to help her. Maria stayed with Feste, helping her mark her blocking and entrances. At one point during a run of the scene, Feste was upstaging herself. One woman, without saying a word or disrupting the scene at all, walked onto the stage and gently turned Feste towards the audience. The scene continued without missing a beat. When it came time for Feste to be both Feste and Sir Topas, the women helped her figure out ways to change her voice or her position on stage to make a distinction between the two characters. Feste grew more and more confident as the rehearsal went on and starting bringing her own ideas to the stage. With the space to explore and the support of her colleagues, Feste really started to take shape. It will be exciting to see how the character grows.

At the center (literally) of the scene is the room or cage in which poor Malvolio has been imprisoned by Sir Toby and Fabian. Staging this has been challenging in past sessions, as we couldn’t land on blocking ideas we were thrilled with. Tonight, however, we had a surge of creativity. Our Malvolio began playing with her positioning in the “prison box” and requested that the box be given a breakaway top. Matt advised her to give Malvolio an objective for the scene and to ask herself how Malvolio plans to escape his prison. With a top on the box and an objective for the scene, Malvolio began to move around the small space more “freely,” searching frantically for a door or crack in the wall. At one point she took off her shoe and started cradling it in her arms. When asked what she was doing, she announced that Malvolio had found a pet mouse in prison. “Like in Shawshank?” exclaimed one woman. “Yeah!” Malvolio replied. “Isn’t that The Green Mile?” asked another woman. “Listen, I know my prison movies,” said another member, “and there is no mouse in Shawshank.”

The addition of a top to the prison box ended up inspiring even more exciting ideas. Our Malvolio, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew collaborated on coming up with a hilarious bit in which Feste leaves the stage whistling “Pop Goes the Weasel”; hearing the song, Malvolio discovers her way out and shoots straight up, blowing the top off of the box with the song’s final “pop” before the curtain quickly closes. The sequence got better every time they ran it and never failed to get laughs from the house.

We ended the rehearsal satisfied with IV.ii, but in agreement that it could still use a megaphone, some extra fake beards on sticks, and some kazoos. The zany creativity is nowhere near over and the collaboration among the women is only getting stronger. Together they are creating one hilarious and smart piece of theatre.

Friday / March 29 / 2019
Written by Matt

Tonight was another divide-and-conquer session, so it was nice that we had all hands on deck! We had all the familiar faces with us tonight--actually, the only facilitator not there was Maria. And a good thing, too; there was lots to do.

The session opened with a major gesture: our Sir Toby had crafted a makeshift “feather-duster” for our Maria as a token of affection. Toby got down on one knee to present the gift, and Maria was ecstatic!

We spent the first part of today’s session talking through our props list, which has gotten a little bit out of control. We needed to know what our ensemble really needed to tell the story, rather than just having some funny ideas. We had some very clear “needs:”

-Inflatable palm trees

-Seaweed boas… AND feather boas!

-Inflatable emoji beach balls

-A life-size cardboard cut-out of Fabio (diligent readers of the blog will be familiar)

-Lots and lots of kazoos

-A cookie (for throwing)

-Lots of other goofy things.

We were willing to give up seagull puppets and toy boats for the first scene because there’s already plenty going on. Somehow, we couldn’t even remember what two of our prop ideas were about: a hot dog with relish (???) and a prosthetic arm (?!?!?!).

Meanwhile, Lauren was helping the women take measurements for their costumes, which is always less drama here than at the men’s prison (take that, patriarchy!).

After props, we split again. Frannie took some folks to the back of the room to make cuts, while the rest of us tried to tackle the first few beats of Act V scene i. It’s a complicated scene, but it starts out simply, with Feste and Fabian. Then, as new characters enter, very few of them leave, and eventually the stage is full of actors. And a life-size cardboard cut-out of Fabio.

Our Feste was out today, so Coffey stepped in as the fool. We don’t love doing this, but it can add a jolt of energy when facilitators fill in, and that’s definitely what happened here! Coffey came in at a run, Fabian trailing behind her, turning the first four lines of the scene into a dynamic, high-energy moment that set the pace for the rest of the actors.

We stumbled through each of the short little beats that begin the scene, adding Orsino, Viola, Antonio, and the zannis to the mix. One by one, we felt our way through each little section of dialogue before moving to the next one or putting them all together. This sort of focus on a thirty-second (or ten-second) piece of the script can be frustrating sometimes, but it allows for a lot of repetitions in a short time, and that allows for a lot of creativity. In particular, our Orsino had fun feeling her way into the scene. When we started, she was wrestling with what the words meant and whom they were addressed to, but within a few minutes, she was totally clear on all of that and free to move dynamically in reaction to the other characters.

Fabian dove into her role, too, working with Coffey’s Feste as a hilarious duo. They chased each other and set each other up for physical comedy. Coffey would look at the “gold coin” deposited in her hand, and Fabian’s eyes would grow big and she would point at the imaginary money. It was great! And in reaction, our Orsino was able to be more frustrated with them, which gave purpose to her performance.

The real stroke of genius, though, came with Antonio’s entrance. We decided to try it with the zanni “officers” walking Antonio down through the house and onto the stage, which resulted in a really nice tableau at the end, using the levels of the stage and leaving half the space open for the next big entrance (well, except for Fabian, who lounged on the fountain set-piece pretending to eat popcorn). The trouble was that the path to that setup hadn’t made a lot of sense. Why was Antonio standing there? Why had the zannis stopped? Why was everyone tripping over everyone else? It was awkward at best.

“How are we going to get Antonio onstage?” I asked, not really having any idea myself.

Instantly, one of the women had an idea. “He makes a break for Orsino, of course!”

“Because he’s not a crook!” shouted another.

“And he sees Orsino, and he needs to beg him to understand his position,” added a third.

One of them jumped up on stage to walk our Antonio through the blocking, which looked even better than it had in my head--it solved all of our logistical and blocking problems while also staying true to the characters and their motivations. In fact, it added tension and urgency to the scene! If Antonio’s lines are delivered after breaking free from his guards and falling prostrate before the man who holds his fate in his hands (instead of just standing between two guards), Antonio’s plight becomes clearer and more intense, and the other actors will have more to work with--how to react? What does their character think of this outburst? It was masterful.

“How did that feel?” I asked after we put it all together.

“You should feel great!” shouted a woman from the audience.

“Oh, man! I can’t believe we’re out of time!” said one member. Indeed, it was 8:15, and we had to hurry! We put up the ring and hustled out after a very productive day.

Season Eight: Week 28

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

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Tuesday / March 19 / 2019
Written by Coffey

We started our session with some good but unusual news. Our Toby and Malvolio painted a closet together during the week and took some time during check-in to marvel at the unusual collaboration. “Malvolio and Toby actually accomplished something today by working together,” Toby said. “It’ll never happen again,” Malvolio laughed.

Another highlight of our check-in was the establishment of the official Shakespeare in Prison Sketchbook. One of the women had the great idea to keep a large sketchbook with our supplies as a place where we could draw out costume ideas, set designs, or any moments or ideas we’d want to draw. The role of SIP Sketchbook Keeper was bestowed upon one of our resident artists, who immediately (and in less than fifteen minutes) graced the first blank page with a beautiful drawing of another woman’s smiling face. A great way to start what we hope will be a long tradition.

In our rehearsal, we tackled the longest scene in the play, Act III, scene iv. Matt read in for Sir Toby, as our Toby had to step out for most of the rehearsal. The other actors on stage looked around for makeshift props, with Sir Andrew opting for a drum stick “sword.” Viola, unable to find a drum stick for herself, rolled up her script. “Wait, but you need a sword!” Sir Toby said. “Um, have you ever had a papercut?” Viola replied.

Weapons of minimal destruction in place, we ran the scene. It was pretty shaky, but the women both on and off stage knew exactly what we needed to fix. Their main point of focus was on Antonio and the officers. “I feel like the officers should be stiffened,” one woman said. “Think like, a soldier type.” The women agreed that the scene needed a little bit more energy, volume, and clear, direct movement.

The second run of the scene was much smoother and displayed some genius on the part of our Fabian. While Viola and Antonio had their uncomfortable exchange, Fabian led Sir Andrew and Sir Toby in sneaking behind our fountain set piece and peering around the corner, their faces forming a classic, seven-dwarves-style totem. This elicited a lot of laughter from the house.

Another strong aspect of this run was Antonio’s work. She is typically shy and quiet, but during this run, she planted her feet, and her voice grew louder and stronger. She was clearly getting into the scene and finding her character and voice. The other women noticed. “I was just really shocked because usually you’re so quiet. This is a part for you to shine,” one woman said. Everyone nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m starting to like it now,” Antonio replied. “I have to say I love that I can hear everything you’re saying, and I can understand you’re saying, and that’s really important because it’s a really confusing play,” Frannie said. Another woman nodded, quietly adding, “But I’m beginning to understand it now.”

The third run was even more impressive. Our Olivia really brought Cher Horowitz (of the movie Clueless) to the stage. Her performance was more sassy, colorful, and strong than it has ever been. Entrances and exits were timed just right, and comedic bits landed so well that even the actors broke character and laughed. When we finally reached the end of this very long scene, we cheered, and an officer who’d come into the room just at that moment cheered with us.

As we gathered for notes, it was clear that the women had shocked themselves with how good the scene was. “A lot of hard, frustrating work paid off in a big way,” Frannie said. The women made a lot of headway today. Their growing confidence in their own talent and care for the show will make it a beautiful experience come performance-time.

Friday / March 22 / 2019
Written by Matt

“Guess what I found on the bookshelf?” asked one of the women during check-in this evening. She waved a yellow paperback to the ensemble. “Hamlet!” She had read part of the introduction and was making her way through the first scene, she said, and already getting into it. When someone asked whether she was getting a head start on the play for next year, though, she looked confused. “Is this our play for next year?” She had been absent from that conversation, and no one had told her that we’re doing Hamlet next season!

First, though, we need to get through this one! We picked up with Act IV scene i, which, honestly, very few of us remembered at all. Our Feste read a summary beforehand to get us up to speed. Then we stumbled through the scene once to figure out what it needed. Actually, this is one of those scenes where the summary was as long as the scene itself! There’s plenty of mistaken identity humor, but it’s only a minute or two long in all.

The first order of business was to cut the scene down a little. One woman was even up for cutting out entire roles. “Does Fabian need to be there?” she asked. “He doesn’t speak.” Our Fabian laughed and replied, “Yeah, but I’m always kind of just there in the background.” Sir Toby said that a scene like this one would be perfect for Fabian to focus on physical humor: butting in on conversations, for example, or stealing bits of Toby’s costume. So we kept Fabian and cut some lines.

With the scene a little leaner, we ran it twice again and everyone seemed a little bit more comfortable with it. Even our Feste, who threw herself into the role recently and with a lot of anxiety, seemed to find her footing as she got to know the character and situation a little bit better. “Feste is the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz!” said someone. “That’s funny, I feel like that’s Sir Andrew!” said another. “Everyone in this play is the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz!” said a third.

After that scene, we divided up again--at this point in the season, we have to!--with one group going backstage to make cuts with me, and another group staying to work scenes from Act I onstage with Emma and Lauren. Frannie was mostly off to the side having one-on-one conversations, but she joined in when she could. It’s nice to feel like we have the ability to work in several simultaneous groups now--and that we have a group of facilitators ready to jump in like that!

Season Eight: Week 27

Be not afraid of greatness…

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Tuesday / March 12 / 2019
Written by Emma

One of this season’s dedicated new members took a seat next to me as the ensemble trickled in. Enthusiastically, she shared with me that she had been noticing Shakespeare everywhere this week—in movies, in books, and even in casual conversation. This was curious, as I too had been seeing reference after reference crop up “in the wild” in recent days. Together we began to ponder the deep cultural impacts of Shakespeare, such that we both in our vastly different day-to-day lives feel the influences of his work regularly. With a smile on her face, this once-shy ensemble member stated that she fully intends to keep building her Shakespeare knowledge once she gets out. Snaps to that!

As check-ins began, it became clear that we were not the only two tuning in to this channel. One woman shared that she too had had a Shakespeare run-in. She is currently enrolled in a creative writing course through Eastern Michigan University. The course syllabus includes a lesson in iambic pentameter, which is to Shakespeare what butter is to Paula Deen. As her instructor explained to the class the rhythmic ins-and-outs of iambic pentameter, she had grown excited. “Like, that’s kind of musical!” she said to us. “And Shakespeare was a really smart dude. And if he was alive today, he would be so cool to sit down with.” She beamed into the circle as us facilitators scrambled to record the quote gold. “He was kind of brilliant! Yeah, I think I fell in love with Shakespeare.”

After raising the ring, we dove back in to the scene work that we have been plugging away at for the past few sessions. This type of work is where the play begins to find its feet and take off. However, it is also a quite tedious and practical process. We picked up where we left off with Act 3 Scene IV—an absolute doozy of a scene that has many moving parts and kinks to work out. The slow-moving process meant that some folks were on stage for long stretches hammering out blocking, while others remained in the audience patiently watching.

Within the first few moments of rehearsing it was clear that the energy was a bit distracted. Both the actors on stage and the ensemble members in the audience seemed detached from the play. A good deal of this could be attributed to situational elements, but even more was simply due to the fact that tapping in to comedic energy is not an easy task. One does not need to dive so deep to access feelings of anger and sadness as to access levity and mirth. It takes a lot of effort to get there outside of prison; inside, it is an absolute feat. Yet the ensemble prevailed. We kept moving, incorporating, blocking, growing.

This exhausting process left one of our senior ensemble members agitated. As we moved through the last minutes of rehearsal, she calmly expressed her irritation. Frannie paused work for a moment to validate that irritation and acknowledge that, indeed, this stage is frustrating. It is repetitive, it is nitty gritty, and it is absolutely necessary. As with all good things, this play will not come easy. With all feelings heard, we picked right back up.

Outside of scene work, other “big picture” things were happening. One of our overarching goals for the day was to get all remaining costume ideas nailed down. Costumes can be a powerful vehicle for projecting individual character personality traits, and as such, we aim to give ensemble members as much creative freedom as possible when deciding what their character is going to be wearing. We fielded the query to those who had not yet selected ideas, including our Orsino. Without hesitation, she said “Tights!” This was clearly not her first time envisioning Orsino’s getup. She went on to outline her desired look of a puffy shirt, elf shoes, and floppy hat with feather (described by Frannie as “Renaissance Man”). The whole ensemble laughed at the mental image of a (literally) puffed up Orsino strutting his stuff.

Picking a costume concept can be easier said than done—especially for folks who aren’t accustomed to flexing that creative muscle. One of our first-season members, who is playing Antonio, wasn’t sure what direction she’d like to take her character. “Whatever you think, Frannie,” she said when asked. “Whatever you think is good!” A little while later, she and I sat together away from the scene work to dive into costume details without any of the group pressure. She expressed to me that she wasn’t sure about her costume because she was still figuring out her character—his motives, his experience, etc.—and simply didn’t feel connected to him yet. In a play as convoluted as Twelfth Night, this is entirely understandable. Even more so considering Antonio’s entire romantic drive never gets adequately addressed and is mostly left up to interpretation. We decided that to land on a costume, we should start at the very beginning. As Rodgers and Hammerstein told us, that is a very good place to start.

She and I brushed up on the basic outline of the play, then honed in on Antonio’s role within that outline. We focused on what the play was about from his perspective—what he sees and what he cares about. After a few minutes of this, she was already visibly warming up to Antonio. When we came back to costumes she had some firmer ideas. “Pinks and purples,” she stated, “and a beret!” By the end of the night, she had outlined an entire costume concept, from flowy shirt to patent-leather shoes—a complete 180 from “whatever you think is good,” and an undeniable win in my mind.

We raised the ring, sending with it the frustration, fatigue, and ultimately triumph of the day.

Friday / March 15 / 2019
Written by Matt

One of our new members had an experience familiar to most people who have done theatre: “So, this may be crazy, but I started dreaming about Shakespeare,” she confessed. Everyone was curious--what were these dreams about? What were they like? Were they sad or happy? Was Shakespeare himself in them, or any of the characters? Or were they about SIP meetings?

Turns out they were anxiety dreams about forgetting lines, missing an entrance, or (this has always been my favorite) walking on and realizing that there’s a completely different play happening. The facilitators and a few of the women who have been on stage before nodded along--this woman joined a tradition as old as the theatre: getting nervous about the theatre!

After check-in, we decided to finish the nitpicky table work we started last week. This isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but some ensemble members actually seemed excited to get back to it, especially since energy was fairly low. Frannie took those people to the back of the house to work out cuts.

But what to do with the zannis and people who didn’t want to sit around to talk about cuts? We did the opposite: movement work. Lauren stepped up (with no warning, it should be said!) to lead a group of us on stage in stretches and warm-ups before diving into a high-energy “fashion show,” in which each person strutted their way down a “runway” and showed off their character’s “outfit” while the rest of us oohed and aahed and pretended to take pictures. It was goofy and fun and really good as a way to loosen up and lose some of the self-consciousness that dogs all of us to some extent.

I participated, so my notes aren’t great. Actually, no one’s notes are very good; we were all jumping around or making cuts! But it was a good time, especially when some of the women doing cuts came up to join us on stage.

I’ll close this short entry with one more bit of costume brilliance. Our Curio had been absent during our last costume conversation, so I talked to her quickly about it. What came out was pure gold: “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really have a vision--” (which is usually the thing people say before describing an amazing vision). “He’s got knee-high boots, greet pants, white shirt. … He’s like Robin Hood! Awwww… he just wants to hunt! And this dude [Orsino] is just a sad sack, and I just want to be, like, ‘Dude, we could go hunting and get us some women and have a good time!’”

No vision, indeed.