Well, Fiddler is over. In one way I'm relieved-no more rehearsals, more free time, no more stress and frustration from that area-but in another I miss it loads. Until I was actually on stage, in costume, under the lights, in front of a paying audience ;) I'd forgotten how much fun it is.
After the disasters that were the dress and the matinée, the actual performances went brilliantly, according to those watching. Of course, there were minor difficulties, like the barrel set right where my table was meant to go on Wednesday, which meant I didn't get the candles lit in time, the missed cue for Anatevka, the dud menorah on Thursday, wee Ben's trouser incident in L'Chaim and other problems, but overall it went well: curtains stayed together, bed didn't break again, no prompting required =)
While waiting in the wings on Thursday I head Mr. Pollock announce the minute's silence for Mr. Knight, which was the first I'd heard of his death...it was very unsettling, particularly since I'd just had a letter from him the week before. Mrs. Morrison got called in because the girls couldn't understand why I was so upset, but I went on and did Tradition anyway. That was the night Mummy and David came-worst opening (hopefully not entirely my fault) but better than Wednesday for the rest.
Mrs. Kirkwood did my make-up on the first night, but after that I did my own, as well as Katy's on Thursday and my littlest "son"'s on Friday. We tend to look less clownish when in control of the make-up ;) In the pre-performance notes that night I was the only chorus member to receive a commendation from Miss Robinson: for my improvised face-wiping skills! ;D According to what she told my brother I made a wonderful Mama (at the beginning they told us we were too sexy and needed more "mumsyness", so I'm not sure if it was a compliment or not!) and both she and Mrs. Morrison said the elder girls really helped to make it-Mrs. M. even went so far as to say we could have been principals, which was an exaggeration but a nice one.
Of course it was Friday night that they filmed it, which was the night that Laura cut her foot in the Dream scene. there were we thinking it would be the candles setting the curtains alight that would be the main safety hazards, but the idiots never thought of the possibilities arising from glass bottles and bare-footed dancers in the same play. John and I were waiting to go on for the scene where I speak!!! and she limped off the stage, her foot coated in blood and a trail of it down the corridor. When we got into the shop, there was a pool of it on the floor. Me being me, I nearly collapsed then and there, and I'm certain I fluffed up my line. John didn't sound too pleased, anyway, and I was too light-headed to improvise when we couldn't get through the door. The stage crew didn't manage to clean the stage before the wedding, which meant that both the wedding dress and the bottle-dancers' knees went through the blood...good thing it was the last night! Poor Laura had to come on for that scene and dance, with her foot tied up in a paper tissue and electrical tape: they couldn't even find the first aid kit, though Mr. Pollock was seen running round school with it during the interval. On the up side, my candles were lit on time for the first time =) I got to do all my stuff when I was meant to...even if my plonker of a "husband" set the table in front of himself rather than in front of me!
After it was over, Miss. Robinson speechified, then Ben did a bit; there were quite a few presentations to various teachers and then the audience were finally allowed to go home...we weren't, though. The lights kept flicking on and off so that we got lost on stage and collided with everyone, and then we had to hug practically every other cast member, although some did it more enthusiastically than others...Derby was being extremely and irritatingly emotional, even some of the little girls were crying, and Claire was ruining the moment in a very dry and sarcastic manner-rather amusing, really!
We managed to get through the week without killing any of the younger, incorrigably noisy ones, even my infuriating "son", who refused to shut up even after being individually singled out for Robbo's public humiliation at least twice. Little punk thinks she can dance, but I have never met a child who showed less acting ability than that girl, but her tongue can move with amazing rapidity and frequency. *sigh* Anyway, I never have to deal with them again, never have to shut them up in the wings...but I never get to watch Ben and Hannah, Mark and wee Megan again, either: they were amazing!
Acting is great fun-I think I might go in for it more at university, after all =)
Most of Saturday afternoon went watching RotK EV: I thought it was rather amusing that I had mine, after just going down to Tesco's on Friday morning, while those ordered from Amazon by the organised people didn't turn up.
It was brilliant, of course, (Cried. Again.) but also disappointing...I would have loved to see more time spent in Mordor, rather than the five minutes the Host is parked at the Morannyn. Faramir and Éowyn still didn't get the screen time they deserve, and the whole Houses part was shockingly compressed and brushed over...in order to make room for more cryptic "Arwen is dying" references, I imagine. What was with the Aragorn masters the palantír scene, anyway? He talks to Sauron. Good. He sees his dead? girlfriend, drops the thing so that unsuspecting servants can pick it up, the necklace breaks (what's with that?) and he runs off. Way to go, ranger-boy. What happened to "turning it to his will" so that he could get a look at what was going on? Heck, Pippin did better than Aragorn, and that was accidentally! Don't get me wrong, I like Arwen, but I think they have tried too hard to get her in, and it's ended up just not making sense. They cut the scene where she gets up, too...I imagine poor Aragorn must have been as confused as I.
The ending was probably the biggest disappointment: not a sniff of an extra shot anywhere, which leaves Sam, Legolas and Gimli, Merry and Pippin, Faramir and Éowyn-even Aragorn and Arwen, to a certain extent, since the number of unfulfilled visions and prophecies in these films is phenomenal-with their fates unresolved. The last ship line is as irritating as ever...I mean, why? Why was it necessary? (Kind of like why were Gandalf's screw-ups about his own age and that of Minas Tirith allowed when they would be so easy to fix...evidently that dying-and-returning thing messed with his concept of time.) Unless that ship is a whole lot bigger inside than out, a la the Stable in Narnia, there is no way you could fit thousands of Elves from Rivendell, Lórien, the Havens and Mirkwood in the hold...and I can't see Gimli or Thranduil leaving at this stage without a whole lot of kicking and screaming. The Havens were chock-a-block for years after Frodo left, and what about Sam? Grr. Breathe, girl, breathe.
If only they had made it ten hours long...no need to squash everything and give us a headache with the rapidity of events. Ah well, I love it anyway!
Oh, another thought: compressible Elves!