The Official WL Studio Theatre blog

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Stunning expose!


Man, you sure can do some cool things with this crazy Interweb thing. TheatreNow magazine made with this little thingy right here. Go ahead, play with it. It's pretty cool.

Friday, October 07, 2005

We're in our natural habitat again...

Post-rehearsal, we are all (well, those of us that are thirst) at ther bar, and I am blogging this from my blackberry, because I am just so gosh darn cool.

Oh, and yes Sheryl-Lynn, I should be learning my lines, but the call of the booze is just too strong.

Sent via BlackBerry on the Bell Mobility network



EDIT: Actually, the date / time stamp on this post is all messed up, as I had to resend it again the next day after it vanished somewhere in the dusty corners of the interweb...

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

This is the Director Speaking

Hi all.

You know, even though we did end up at the bar, it was not because of some highly motivated need of the actors. No, it was just the sociable place to be after a really fine rehearsal. That's all. Not lowered blood alcohol readings, not a need to be in a darkened environment, not even because it was just a crappy, crappy day. It was just a good place to end up. And co-incidently, on the way home for all of us.

And it's not three weeks until opening, it's 21 days. Which is plenty of time. Even though we haven't quite made it through the play yet and that romantic moment has yet to be blocked and I haven't even rehearsed with the corpses or two of the actors yet. But, I have choreographed a fight scene, which wasn't in the script. And there are some fine comic bits by Torrey, who is now soulless, poor chap. And the Aunties have taken to dressing in the same colours telepathicaly. Well, actually they are wearing real clothes, not telepathic ones. They just communicate telepathically to decide which colours they are going to wear. Michelle has maintained her not yet kissed status. That's due to change. Curt is singing on stage. Craig and Warren are appropriately keystone, and can Shirley-Ann ever tell a good yarn. Bob wanders in, blows something and leaves. Bob is watching his feet, just as requested. Rose is quietly becoming stronger and stronger. And Todd? Well, he's dashing and heroic, in a humble kind of way.

And Todd, shouldn't you be learning your lines instead of drinking at the bar?

Arsenic: An Update

Well, rehearsals seem to be going well, except for the fact that I haven't managed to learn my lines yet. I could use some pathetic excuse about how I've been incredibly busy in all the areas of my life outside of the theatre, but it's probably easier to just put it down to the fact that I'm a lazy buffoon (bufloon?).

It's not helped by the fact that people seem to be intent on constantly reminding us that it's only three weeks until we open. Stop saying that! I'd rather remain in blissful ignorance for another two and half weeks, please. Thanks.

Anyway, here's a few shots from a recent rehearsal.


Our esteemed director, and one of our esteemed producers (the other, I believe, was behind the camera at this moment) discuss dictorial and producorial issues. Things like budgets, poster design, and whether or not to go the bar after rehearsal.


Later, the esteemed director discusses with one of her actors on whether or not a trip to bar after rehearsal was in order. The actor was heard to reply, "If I don't get some liquor into my blood in the next hour, I think I'll probably die."


In an attempt to better understand his character, and better understand the true nature of evil, Curt reads a trashy tabloid. Is Angelina pregnant with Brad's baby!? Oh, how the mind boggles!


Stage Manager Sara-Lynn prepares to lay some Stage Managerial Smackdown on the rowdy, uncontrollable, but still myseriously sober actors.


Fully in the roll of Mortimer, I expresses my character's complete distaste for all things theatre in the most profound way I know how.


Julie hides from the hateful, soul-stealing gaze of the craptastic digital camera. Torrey, sadly oblivious to the camera's presence, lost his soul that evening. The camera ate it with some fava beans and a nice chianti.


When, at last, the rehearsal began, the actors, true to their nature, stood around staring at each other, wondering whose turn it was to spit out a line.


Curt: I think it's your line.

Todd: No, I'm sure it's yours.

Curt: No, look it's right here, it says...hey, wait a minute...


Curt: You're not even supposed to be in this scene! Get off the stage, you scenery chewing buffoon!


As the rehearsal tragically fell apart, Michelle and her Sisterâ„¢ (thankfully the only audience members) cringed in horror and disgust.

Michelle: It's not going to look this dreadful in three weeks, is it?

Actors: Stop saying three weeks!


Meanwhile, the actors counted the minutes until they were released from the theatre and allowed to return to their natural habitat -- the bar.


And then, just when things couldn't get any worse, our photographer was sucked through a temporal vortex into another dimension. Where, strangely enough, he found a sock.


It was at this point that our esteemed director completely snapped, and started to giggle uncontrollably for half an hour, her laughter only occasionally broken up by the words, "Three weeks, oh god, it's only three weeks," muttered quietly under her breath.

That's all for this update. Watch for more madness in the days and weeks to come.