After ten months of thinking about this show, we’ve just
begun to talk about Common Hatred as a play in performance. Karie has said that the play will never be
“ready” for an audience, which is good since I still think of this show as a fun
game we play in her dining room. Her point is that the play will never feel
finished, we’ll just start letting people into the room to wade through with us.
That since of cohabitation is important, and it’s something we’re trying to be
mindful of even as our characters’ hearts get broken or hopes get fulfilled.
Our acting is about making sure we share those emotions with the characters and
audience members around us.
In many ways, we’re already doing this. We already take
care of each other in the rehearsal room, and we’ll try just about anything to
make our fellow cast-mates look good. It’s a healthy,
exciting dynamic – and thank goodness, since otherwise this six-month rehearsal
process would have flatly sucked. I think audiences will be able to see and
feed off of the cast’s love for each other. But here’s the thing: I feel pretty
selfish about my character. I helped create her, for crying out loud. I want to
take this journey with her. If she cries,
I kind of want to cry, too.
So the challenge will be much the same as any other show,
except harder: letting go. That’s always tough, but I argue that in theatre it’s
easier when the script is written when you start, or when the play has had
countless incarnations before you shake hands with your character. Letting go,
for this show, will really be a feat. It will be a statement of enormous trust,
as in, “Here, take my newborn while I renew my driver’s license at this
downtown DMV.”
As I write, none of us are off-book yet, and we’re still
cautiously hopping the inevitable gap between what we devised and the play’s written
reality. That’s okay. We have a whole three weeks. Three. Three of them. As for
many important things in life, I tell myself that fear is a companion rather
than a menace. It’s along for the ride, but it doesn’t signal impending doom.
And what we have here is special, and bigger than us, and we want to share it
with you.
(A Note from The Ruckus: If you're enthralled by this blog and excited about this show (and we know you are), then you should totally come join us for Brooke Allen's Francis Ford Coppola's Bram Stoker's [REDACTED]: a party slash movie slash fundraiser for Common Hatred performing Saturday, June 9th at 8:30pm at The Elegant Mr. Gallery (1355 N. Milwaukee). GAME ON.)
