I’m really pushing it with this column. It’s the last day of the month, my deadline is technically tomorrow, and I don’t know if I’m going to make it. I’ve had rehearsals for our new production of “Così,” which has its premiere this weekend. I’ve literally been just watching six or seven rehearsals a day for much of the last two months. I do get a chance at the end of the rehearsal to run through what was staged, but I don’t really do that much rehearsing. When I’m not at staging rehearsal, I’ve been in musical rehearsals for other pieces coming up at the house. When I come home at night, I’m too wiped out to get anything done.
I know. That’s how life is when you’re a cover, right? But I’m not a cover. I’m in the second cast. I’m definitely going to have a performance this season. To boot, I’ll be single cast next season. Tonight is my only run-through with orchestra.
We rarely have covers at the house and, instead, almost all roles are double cast. It makes a lot of sense: if we’re all getting paid to be here anyway, we may as well be getting roles under our belts, right? And since we all get sick every once in a while, it’s good insurance for the theater for many reasons. Guests that jump in on short notice get a lot more money than a normal guest and everyone, from the conductor to the tech guy running the spot, is on their toes. So we double cast.
Which begs the question: Who, then, gets to sing the premiere? If a guest is cast, the guest takes precedence, obviously. If both singers are from the house, it’s either decided by the stage director shortly before the big day or it’s decided far in advance, when contracts are negotiated. No matter how it’s decided, though, it always causes tension.
The cast that sings opening night gets the most attention in almost every way—more staging rehearsals, more ensemble rehearsals, more press, more production photos, and more performances. And in some ways it makes a lot of sense. The reviews are almost exclusively for the premiere, and in the eyes of the audience, those reviews set the tone for the rest of the run, even if that run lasts for the next eight seasons. You don’t want a cast feeling like they’re under-rehearsed come opening night, so you make sure they get as much time as they need.
To even things out, the second cast (which generally gets the second performance), gets half of the Endproben (final or last rehearsal) and sings the orchestra tech, so they’ve had at least one run-though in costume with the lighting and set exactly as it will be for a performance. They may not feel as comfortable as the first cast, but at least they’ve had a chance to do everything once.
And that’s where I find myself right now. Sure, it’s Despina and not Fiordiligi, but it’s a debut for me, and I definitely want to do a good job. Yesterday for the first time (and split up between two rehearsals), I sang the whole role in chronological order, staging included. There were scenes I hadn’t done since they were staged four weeks ago and some I’d done only once. I didn’t get to sing much of the Sitzprobe; “Così” is so long, and in the five hours we had with the orchestra, we didn’t get through all of the musical numbers one time, let alone twice. Tonight is our orchestra tech, and I’ve got to be in makeup in just under two hours.
Listening to the recording I made of last night’s orchestra rehearsal, I have to say I feel pretty good, but here’s the real kicker: after tonight, I won’t actually sing a show for two months. We’ll have refresher staging rehearsals, as a new Dorabella is stepping in—but the next time I’ll be on stage, in costume and with orchestra, will be for the performance. That’s a long time, right? And between now and then, I’ll have performances for four other shows (one of them another debut for a major role) and will be in tech week for a fifth show that opens the following weekend (also a major role debut). I’ve only got myself to blame for the situation that awaits me come May. Three large roles in the space of 15 days is a lot, but I didn’t have to say yes to everything.
I feel like what ends up happening is this: everything is so focused on the premiere that we run the risk of sacrificing the quality of every other show that isn’t the premiere. So much of what I’ve done in rehearsing this particular production—although it certainly isn’t exclusive to this show—has dealt with getting from point A to point B at the right time. I try to always be in character during a show, but there is so much I’m doing in this show that I’m just “doing,” without character motivation. And after our rehearsal last night, the director made a point of telling us that it seemed like we fell out of character when we were on stage but not singing. We definitely were, because when we did get a chance to rehearse, it was all about getting the blocking right and not about telling a story. When I’m the only Despina next year and we have two weeks of rehearsal to relearn the show, the time we’ll invest won’t be about character or relationships, it will be about being in the right place at the right time.
I remember being in college and thinking about opera as art. I never actually thought about myself as an artist, because I just don’t think like that. But I did have lofty aspirations of somehow communicating to the audience through the medium of opera. I would think about my character and how I could make her relatable to people today, or I would look at a show and figure out what the point of it was and what it had to do with life in the 21st century. That sounds so ridiculous, but I really did think like that—and still do. There are things you can express on stage and with music that can’t be expressed in any other way.
This is an issue I’ve dealt with before—when it’s just another day at work for me, I have to remember that it still has to be special for the audience. But this adds another level to the mix: how can I make sure that what I’m doing is speaking to the audience when I don’t know half the time what I’m supposed to be doing or why I’m doing it? I’ve got two months to get my act together, literally, before the curtain goes up.
And when I try to imagine throwing “Così” together in an average American company, with an accelerated rehearsal schedule, it makes me want to cringe. How do you guys do it?
