Rehearsal Notes
By Len Verwey
Sorry, I assumed you were awake anyway.
Let's try it without the heavy breathing
toward the end of the scene in the garden.
It distracts, somehow. Just speak the words, there
and elsewhere, as loudly
or as quietly as they need to be spoken.
Need in this context is vague, but do your best.
Don't get me wrong, subtlety is not the goal,
not on our budget, but an untested intensity
will flounder somewhere between the prompter
and the first row of the audience.
They know the story too, after all,
and it will be late by the time you face them.
Don't gaze into the distance when the
future is referred to. Don't hope
when you speak of hope.
Presumably it's not easy being us
but consider the alternatives.
Have you looked around recently?
In scene four you are passing an empty bowl around
that must seem heavy, but overdo
the heaviness and its emptiness is the final
lingering effect. Do you see what I mean?
I mean use the sharp knives carefully.
I mean real tears
don't mean you're acting well, just that you've lost
yourself in yourself again,
and where the script says scream
a step to the side and possibly a finger
touched to the mouth will do.
Copyright Credit: Len Verwey, "Rehearsal Notes" from In a Language That You Know. Copyright © 2017 by Len Verwey. Reprinted by permission of University of Nebraska Press.
Source: In a Language That You Know (University of Nebraska Press, 2017)