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![]() All's Well That Ends Well | |||||||
Here is a link to the previous column in the series.
During the dress rehearsal the next day, the lighting was still being adjusted. Mark, the lighting designer, was under pressure. Fido and I had had the luxury of time to formulate ideas. Mark had to do all his work in two and a half hours. He managed to keep his cool as dancers shouted "It's too bright, I can't see!" or "Where's the light at the back of the auditorium to spot on?". These were the least of his worries, and were dealt with best by our Stage Manager, who replied calmly to such requests with "Yes, I'm just going for a bath, and I'll do it when I get back". After the dress rehearsal, I did an interview for local TV. The first question they asked was "How do you feel about your ballet opening a triple bill that is also boasting two major choreographers?" This didn't help the nerves one bit. It's amazing how many miles one can clock-up walking round an NCP car park for 35 minutes. After begging for a ticket so I could watch Country Garden from the front (I was also performing in Who Cares? at the end of the evening - so who'd have thought I'd want to watch?) I walked through the pass door with Fido and Charlotte (designer and notator) only to see the whole Royal Family - Mr Deane, Lady Harlech, Mrs McPhee et al. That and the full house made it sort of thrilling. The house lights went down and after a shaky rendition of the overture (pianists get nerves too - it's official) the performance went without a hitch. Lots of applause, house lights up, I run back stage, thank the dancers, start putting on make up, only to be called out for - I'd completely forgotten - another TV interview, this time for an educational video diary. When that's over, quick look to see where they are up to in the second ballet - oh, near the end. Back to the dressing room, put on more slap as Sphinx finishes, and go on in Who Cares? The word buzz doesn't begin to describe the evening. I woke on Wednesday with what I thought was a hangover, but no headache, no mouth that felt like I'd eaten an Arran sweater and not swallowed, no aching muscles; it wasn't until I got to the theatre and someone said "You must have been so pleased with last night?" that I realised I was suffering from post-natal depression. I had produced a ballet and the next day in the rehearsal I didn't want to look at it let alone bath it and change its nappy. But it had to be done. I had to straight away rehearse the alternative casts and start cleaning what I saw. It proved very difficult as a second cast has been deprived of attention for most of the rehearsal period, so when the time comes for them, I've got to be a caring sharing parent again - I desperately wanted a babysitter. This mood stayed with me for over a week and I was grateful when Ros or David had the time to sit down and offer advice during these hard rehearsals. Not all dancers want to be dancing what they are given and it takes patience, empathy and focus to drag out the positivity that is needed to approach a role that for some of the younger dancers was a challenge.
Over the course of the tour I put on the alternative casts, some more successful than others. As I've watched the ballet settle (the last performance in Barrow was outstanding) I constantly sit and re-choreograph bits I don't like and movements that still don't work. If it's ever done again, I'll put these changes in; until then, I'm going for a bath and I'll do it when I get back.
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