After a bumpy dress rehearsal where I was absolutely shitting a brick, we had a great run that I was totally happy with.
If you came opening night, you got to watch as we actually figured out where the laugh lines were, such as when Kristopher proposes to me by saying, "What I really need is a nurse." We were shocked by show stopping laughter, and K just kept on kneeling there, and I'm watching his eyes twitching ever so slightly, and I'm thinking, geez, he is really getting into the emotionality of this scene. What I was actually witnessing was K about to explode with laughter.
If you came to the Saturday matinee, you got to watch me shed real-life tears, which totally took me by surprise as I hit my stride with my big emo monologue. As luck would have it, that was the day we had a reviewer. When he reviewed me in The Wind in the Willows last year he said: Elizabeth Doran made an amusing (female) Toad with enough fleeting mannerisms to fuel an entire reperatory company. I am assuming he meant that in a good way (?). Anyway, when he went up and talked to me at the end and we got to talking about that, he laughed and said he totally didn't recognize me. Again, I will take this as a good thing, since I went from playing a children's theater amphibean to a 38-year-old spinster in a comedy of manners. Waiting to find out if he reviews us again.
If you came to the Saturday late show, you would have seen what may have been my best performance, (according to Jon) though I am loathe to believe that, because I managed to get myself so rattled by the second act that I was praying for death. You also got to watch Kristopher miss his entrance, which is the exact same entrance he missed in the dress rehearsal, and is something of a miracle, because I had been joking with him about what I would do if he ever missed it again, and I did just that. Basically, Brad is about to rip up this important document Kristopher wrote and I start shouting at him not to. When K didn't show up, I just kept shouting made up lines with his name in them at the top of my lungs - I am going to tell MR. ROYCE. Just wait until MR. ROYCE finds out what you tried to do!!!!! Oh, there you are Mr. Royce, (it's about goddamn time).
If you came to the Sunday matinee, you were in the smallest audience, and saw us recover from the most dropped lines, but according to the statistical data I gathered, I apparently made a greater percentage of you ladies mist up at the thought of my wasted, spinstery uterus. So, hurrah!