Chekhov Rehearsals Starting

Rehearsals for the two short Chekhov plays I'm in are set to start this coming Monday night, with our first read-through. The two plays are "The Proposal" and "A Reluctant Tragic Hero," translated by Paul Schmidt.

"The Proposal," frequently anthologized in a different translation titled "The Marriage Proposal," is a raucous scene for three actors. It interestingly alternates between one, two, and three actors on stage at one time. My part is the young landowner, Lomov, who's come to ask for the hand of his neighbor's daughter in marriage, but, well, that's harder to accomplish than you might think.

In contrast, "A Reluctant Tragic Hero," a scene for two actors, is mostly about one character's gripes, so it mostly becomes a single monologue of the one character complaining. That character is who I'll be playing, Tolkachov, a petty bourgeois office manager.

The interesting thing about these plays, to me, is just how much empathy these characters could plausibly get from the audience. Both Lomov and Tolkachov are, well, whiny. And they both have an awful sense of entitlement. The trick, I suppose, is to play on the intensity and urgency that these characters bring with them. They want the things they want, they need the things they need, and they're going to be as reasonable and as clever as they can be in trying to get these things.

Anyhow, I'm looking forward to these rehearsals, and definitely looking forward to the performances themselves. It's going to be an interesting little minimalist (and partly DIY) dramatic ride. Curious? Come see me in March at the Fells Point Corner Theater.

Me as Tiresias

This is me as Tiresias from last fall's production of Two Suns Over Thebes (Alex Hacker's translation of Euripides's The Bacchae):

Taken by Molly Margulies

At this moment, if I recall correctly, I'm delivering my first real speech -- a short one, and a bit of a tirade. I'm both musing to myself and haranguing Jonathan Jacobs's Cadmus about what dancing and drinking to Dionysus really means -- namely, that ceremony isn't about institution but rather about the meaning that you make within the moment. Now that I think about it, I don't know if Tiresias makes this comment out of a kind of innocence, or with the clear understanding that, following a moment of meaning, there's always fallout, a hangover. But since this is a play about Dionysus, the god of hangovers -- what's more, since Tiresias is well-acquainted with royally fucking up and suffering for it -- it may be safe to say that Tiresias knows well enough what he's talking about.

Serious Close-Up in Jacket and Tie

Here's a picture I took of myself, with my own Canon Rebel, a nice cheap 50mm lens, and decent window light:

Quite nice, I think. And I do say so myself. "Say so myself," what does that expression even mean? I've totally lost track of it, can't pinpoint it right now. But anyway.

Here's a really short story. Someone once asked me, when I offered to take a picture of this someone: You're not a photography person, are you? I was so struck by that question, I didn't know what to say. Not a photography person? I mean, I'm not the best, but I'm alright. Even for my not-too-insignificant experience level, I can do quite a lot with just my kit lens and my 50mm.