NO, MAN!
MON. MAY 23/2005/03:50 E.S.T.
While @ rehearsal on SUN., ACTRESS detained us for a further half-hour because she couldn't understand why her character wouldn't leave the house when her husband left the room, so I pointed out that *in the script*, a telephone conversation in which my character engages does not actually take place, but is in fact a mindgame conducted by him in the ongoing Psychological Warfare between his wife & himself (I thought of WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?™ as I typed this!) when *she leaves the room in which he confronts her*, which takes her further into the house, not closer to the front door.
My reasoning was supported by what the playwright had written, so naturally, it was rejected by ACTRESS (& DIRECTOR by proxy), since their staging & interpretation of the story contradict what the man wrote, & as they pointed this out to me, I realised that in their minds, they were fully justified in imposing a Feminist agenda upon what I perceive to be a Black Comedy, & felt they were throwing me a bone by even taking time to listen to my own thoughts & feelings on the matter: I was being tolerated, rather than included, as ACTRESS'S crossed arms & curdled milk facial expression broadcast loudly & clearly.
Suddenly, I found myself on the road to Damascus, staring into the sun, as I grokked how & why it was that I was being punished for attempting to tell the story that I had read, instead of the story that they *wished* the playwright had written!
While @ rehearsal on SUN., ACTRESS detained us for a further half-hour because she couldn't understand why her character wouldn't leave the house when her husband left the room, so I pointed out that *in the script*, a telephone conversation in which my character engages does not actually take place, but is in fact a mindgame conducted by him in the ongoing Psychological Warfare between his wife & himself (I thought of WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?™ as I typed this!) when *she leaves the room in which he confronts her*, which takes her further into the house, not closer to the front door.
My reasoning was supported by what the playwright had written, so naturally, it was rejected by ACTRESS (& DIRECTOR by proxy), since their staging & interpretation of the story contradict what the man wrote, & as they pointed this out to me, I realised that in their minds, they were fully justified in imposing a Feminist agenda upon what I perceive to be a Black Comedy, & felt they were throwing me a bone by even taking time to listen to my own thoughts & feelings on the matter: I was being tolerated, rather than included, as ACTRESS'S crossed arms & curdled milk facial expression broadcast loudly & clearly.
Suddenly, I found myself on the road to Damascus, staring into the sun, as I grokked how & why it was that I was being punished for attempting to tell the story that I had read, instead of the story that they *wished* the playwright had written!