Rumblings and nerves

No matter how many shows I make (over 20 so far not including education-related), I still get the pre-show nerves. I get them on the day of a show as the audience filters in, and in the weeks leading up to a premiere. I'd like to be one of those cool, collected people who don't worry about what others think, but the truth is I'm a big ball of nerves. I do care. I can't help but care what people think. Thats part of why I do what I do. I want people to be moved in some way by what we make as a company.

In a little over a week Third Person (redux) opens and its nerve-wracking as always. We have, oddly, had a few weeks off from rehearsals and are set to start up again this week to polish the beast. Its unusual for us to give ourselves time off this close to a premiere, but I think it has served us very well. From the moment we started making this show its been a different animal. Just looking back at some of our lovely intern Jenny's blog posts proves that point. We are normally very clear on our starting points and, although things change, we usually stick to our plans. This time, the show has stretched and pulled and morphed in a million different directions until finally returning to something oddly close to our starting point. Just a month or two ago it looked like we were going somewhere else, but here we are again. And that journey is exciting, but also highly unsettling.

Third Person - the original NY version - was created in 2005 (i think) as a response to a call our friends at the Brick Theatre in NY put out for the Moral Values Festival. The Brick is a small but perfectly formed space in Williamsburg Brooklyn that has the energy of a much larger space. Every summer, they organise a ridiculous festival that gives smaller companies a chance to make a new show that might otherwise not be feasible. We made Third Person in just under five weeks. It was me, Tigger, Carlton and an intern/stage manager named Abby in a hot studio in Gowanus Brooklyn slugging it out. The process involved something like a porn shoot (at my house! for the video and photos of the two performers getting very close to doing it), a lot of lugging around of equipment and some hilarious drawings from J. Morrison. In the end, the original Third Person was extremely well-received and very personal. It followed the dissolution of a relationship between two jaded New Yorkers, fueled by drugs, sex and an unhealthy relationship to money. Suffice to say, the piece was highly autobiographical...

Now, five+ years later, the landscape of the world is somewhat different and the new Third Person (redux) reflects that. Still concerned with love and death but now focused on the story of Bonnie and Clyde, the lecture-demonstration format of the original Third Person has stretched to fit new content. Its been a remarkable process and I'm constantly amazed by the energy, effort and brilliance of the Proto-type collaborators. From my perspective watching my words come to life, there is no such thing as failure - the opening will inevitably be filled with people who don't like what we've made and people who do. What is important, I suppose, is that we like what we've made. Watching Gillian and Wes do their delicate dance of edging close to becoming Bonnie and Clyde and then pulling back to reflect on the nature of love, death and of storytelling is heartbreaking. I fall in love every time I see Gillian making lemonade while imagining Bonnie's dreams of old age and I am in awe as Wes explodes with energy and passion as he describes the turning point in their story. Duncan's music came late in the process but somehow seems inseparable from the show; it's like a glove tailor made for our particular madness. And David's lighting is helping the show to emerge from the scruffy rehearsal mode into something sparkly and sculpted.

Making a new show is a lot like raising a child on intensely strong speed. You see it come out of you, grow and leave in a matter of a year or less. It is natural that I'd be emotional to see the show start to take its first steps without me. I cannot help but be nervous, excited, worried, insecure, proud of the lovely mess we've made together. I hope you all feel something when you watch it too - whether you hate it or love it, I hope it isn't a bland response.