During rehearsal, one of my main responsibilities is helping to set up and track props. In addition to maintaining the integrity of the script, I think the purpose of the props/costumes is to add a dimension to or emphasize a trait of the character that operates them. For example, when the Professor rings the bell to get the attention of the other house members, the strident discord of the sound underscores the melodramatic nature of the man himself. I think the piano represents Yelena’s freedom and her passion. Just as she is prohibited from playing the piano by the Professor, she is prevented from escaping and flying away by her obligation to the man. Vanya’s bathrobe depicts his transition from an intelligent, respectable man to a more languid man with his emotions in disarray. I am excited to see the final props and how they fit into what we have done already.
Because I have been on book for the last few rehearsals, I think I’ve read Vanya at least five times over, but I’ve discovered new interpretations, noticed lines that I had ignored, and made deeper connections with the plot each time around. For example, when Yelena says something along the lines of “Dont worry, I’ll be old too in five or six years blah,” to the Professor, I merely thought she was attempting to sympathize with the Professor’s old age and ultimately, get the Professor to stop whining. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time we had gone through it until Jeff pointed out and I realized that it was also an affirmation that she would still be with the Professor five years down the line. Another example occurs when the Professor mentions “his unmarried daughter” when he makes the speech about selling the estate. It took a couple of read-throughs until I realized how much this contributed to Sonya’s sorrow, as she is again reminded of her desolation, and knows she will never be with her hunky loverboy Astrov. This has made me question if I’ve ever truly understood any book that I’ve read only one time around.
I also have a new found appreciation for the work that Hillary and the rest of the cast do. The sheer amount of time and effort a stage manager puts into organizing the show is astounding. Actors also have to work on many things simultaneously – memorizing lines, combining that with blocking, body language, intonation, and connecting it to other cast members – all in a fluid process. I’ve learned a lot solely from sitting back and observing, and from helping out whenever I am needed.
Many authors/playwrights/poets breathe an air of mysticism into their writing, in an attempt to take their audience on magical and extraordinary journeys. Uncle Vanya appeals to me because it confronts the real, homely, and everyday ups and downs of life. Whether it a lost love, a sense of listlessness, regret for the past, or sheer boredom with life, Chekhov conveys problems that normal people can encounter in their regular life. Along the way, the audience is still swept up on a journey, not one of magical and fantastical proportions, but rather one of personal and intimate experience. At some point while watching Vanya, I think an audience member will have a moment of consciousness when they stop to think “This reminds me of…” or “I remember when…” and this ability to connect to the performance in a distinctive, direct way will elevate their experience to a new level.
Although I admit I sometimes get bored during rehearsal, when I witness the play unfold, I find myself caught up in these sort of moments, and I feel engaged and intrinsically tied to Uncle Vanya and the entire cast.
Yours,
Reddy