Thanks for commenting, Dennis. I hope all is well with you.

Thanks for expanding on my comments about the readthrough — I have been to enough that I do appreciate how different they can be. At one end of the spectrum (to be bitchy) you sometimes see egos already coming into play and, as an outsider, can only have sympathetic thoughts for the director. At the other end (as happened with this play) you can immediately see a cast that wants to make things work — and starts the process immediately. I certainly didn’t mean to imply that my limited experience covered all the possibilities.

I do hope every person who visits this blog reads your second last para more than once — it captures why, for me, live theatre is my favorite entertainment. As a novel reader, I most prefer books where I find the author has engaged me, literally as another character in the book. As a theatre-goer, on a good night, I find that playwright, director, cast and crew do exactly the same thing — I become a part of the experience of “same words, different play”. And have enormous respect for all of the people who are involved in making that happen.

Thanks for the comment — I am sure you can understand from both Parts One and Two why I find live theatre to be so interesting.

You observations of the read-through are really interesting. I’ve been at some where actors make a great performance of ‘not’ acting, some where as you say there are tears before bedtime and I’ve certainly seen some actors produce their best work in a read-through. At that early stage you’re relying on your instincts and for some actors that’s their best; the rehearsal, the tinkering and all that acting end up getting in the way.

Also interesting was your experience of ‘same words, different play’. It’s what separates live theatre from the recorded arts, the reason why you can still find something new in Shakespeare after more than 400 years and what makes acting so much fun to do. It is so weird to be able to do so much with the same words and to fell how an audience’s reaction can warp and alter the performance of the play from night to night. That feedback is why I think I will always prefer theatre to filming.

Right, enough waffle, I’m off to read part two…

It’s a funny sense of proprietorship, or even ownership, I suppose, because when you write about the fact I no longer owned the play I flinched a little. You’re right, of course, that’s the nature of a collaborative art form like theatre and if I felt a real need for ownership I suppose I should have been a novelist. But I never felt I didn’t own the play. Part of the process is to give it over to the director and cast, and as we were blessed with a great director and cast that wasn’t hard to do. But it was always mine, if you know what I mean. (Still is, for that matter.)

The final stage that I think might be of interest to the very interesting people who have commented on your essay is that the playwright gives it over yet again to the critics and commentators. I think more so even than novelists, playwrights have had an especially antagonistic relationship with the critics. Who was it who said critics are like eunuchs in a harem? They see how it’s done, night after night, but they can’t do it themselves. (The Irish playwright Brendan Behan — what did we do before Google?!)

Maybe because we do have to give over to the talents of others, we feel especially vulnerable. And yet, it’s all part of the process. It can be unpleasant, as in the case of a bad review. And then again, it can be very nice, as is the case of your essay, where I have the opportunity to see you share your memories of our time together on the play with others. And then read their responses. Fascinating world this blog world. Thanks for introducing me to it.

I’m rambling. It’s late. I guess I’m just saying thanks, and letting you know that I’m very curious about how your readers are responding to your essay, and of course, about what comes next.

No pressure, mind you.

Thanks, Kevin.

Eugene

I had the absolute pleasure of seeing Queen Lear and I have decided that it is my new favourte stage production. I hope to see much more of KevinfromCanada and Eugene Stickland.

While most “beats” in a play are obvious, the discussions that I found most interesting were when actors wondered whether a moment was a “beat” or not — e.g. is this a continuation of dialogue? or are we about to move onto new turf?

If you want another example of how I find it works in fiction, check out the post that Max put up today — http://pechorinsjournal.wordpress.com/ — on The Reluctant Fundamentalist. He rightly devotes a lot of attention to the framing device of the monolgue, which some readers find distracting. I found it to be quite different — the narrator uses “beats”, sometimes quite artificial, to supply layers of complexity and nuance to the story. It is that effect that I think my play-watching experience taught me, becoming aware of how an author uses the technique almost the same way that a painter builds layers of paint to create a full picture.