Directing a play at the Apollo Theatre, the National Theatre of the Isle of Wight, is like riding on a tumbrel to the guillotine: slow but inexorable, no going back.
Rotten eggs are thrown by the production crew, usually because the director hasn't made her/his intentions clear, with no changes.
Squashed tomatoes hurled by the cast find their mark. especially at that point in rehearsals when there's no more time for meandering discussions of character or motivation, or the set/costume is thought to be "wrong".
Mme. Defarge awaits, knitting up hubris.
To quote Sydney Carton, aka the Scarlet Pimpernel, I can only say, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known."
Or, mine's a small Chardonnay, chilled.
(Apologies to Charles Dickens)
The set is being built as we speak....photo courtesy of Paul Jennings.
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