Friday, July 4: 5 pm
At this point, I was feeling pretty good about what I'd seen. In
addition to reunions with some old favorites (Emily's Alice! Sonya's
Faye!), I'd managed to hit three of the new loops I most wanted to
see. Of the remaining two, I was starting to believe that I would
never have the chance to see Marla Phelan's Wendy – she's a swing,
after all, and I imagine none of the regulars would want to give up a show during the final week. But at least I could hit the final one
on the list, Ira Siobhan's Claude, who I had passed up time and time
again for no real reason. Time to rectify that.
Out of the lift, I found Studio 5 quiet and largely deserted, as
usual. Part of me expected to find the quiet variation on the
“That's an arm!” scene that I had once stumbled upon at the top
of the show, but instead, it was just Claude, sitting in the dressing
area and reading a newspaper. I watched him read for a few minutes, during which he crushed the head of a model in the paper with the
shadow of his hand. Ah, yes, Claude and his shadows. I had almost
forgotten about them, it had been so long.
Eventually he climbed to his feet and headed for the basement. I
followed, of course, and he led me not to the cupboard in the Temple,
but to George Buchanan's office, where he told me all about how
Frankie was the up and coming star, and how Dolores's time was
through while changing into his initiation outfit. It was kind of
odd, having him address me directly like that while I still had my
mask on – the only other time I had seen that scene was in
December, with David Essing – but then, the room was packed with
white masks, mitigating the weirdness. This time it was just the two
of us.
We headed out to the initiation, where I was surprised by just how
easy it was to tell which of the masked people was Claude – Ira
really does move differently than anyone else in the show. Kind of
crisp and fluid all at the same time – really impressive, at any
rate. After the initiation, we returned to the office and he changed
back into his normal outfit. This time, another white mask joined
us, and he told her to cancel all of his appointments, because it was
a very important day.
On the way out, we didn't have that brilliant moment of synchronicity
that I saw in December, where we encountered Lila mere moments after
he said she was on her way – I guess the loops have shifted a
little since then. We headed upstairs to the infidelity ballet,
where Claude delivered the invitations to Andrea (Fania Grigoriou).
I was quickly realizing that, despite the pre- and post-initiation
scenes, Ira's Claude is neither talkative nor particularly
interactive. Even with the other characters, he's a man of
relatively few words – but his body language speaks volumes. This
is a man in complete control, who remains untouched by anything. He
actually feels even more authoritative than Stanford himself, which
is no mean feat. When he pursued Frankie (Conor Doyle), first around
the Studio 5 set and then down the stairs, he never lost his cool,
never really got excited. Even as he kissed him, after catching him the first time, he never bothered to pull one of his hands out of his
pocket. Just that cool, just that unbothered. Despite the
possessiveness and the pursuit, I don't think Frankie means much to
him.
This became even more apparent during the orgy. In general, once we get into the
thick of things, Claude winds up blowing Frankie for quite a while –
their tryst is what blocks our view of Dolores and Marshall and
allows them to slip out the secret passage. Ira's Claude, on the
other hand, spent much of his time abandoning Frankie and leaning off
to the side to make out with the PA (Stephanie Nightingale). Thus,
it was no surprise at all when he was the one who threw Frankie away,
rather than the other way around.
What was a surprise, however, was the bizarre way he threw himself down on
Frankie one last time, and then sort of worm-crawled away. No
explaining that one.
When we got to the photo room, he was once again cool and
unconcerned. When he tore up Frankie's photo, it wasn't an act of
rage, it was an act of dismissal. He didn't care. He even laughed a
bit. Then he danced in the hallway for a minute and we headed
upstairs to reset Andrea. I really like the way he cleared a path
for her after arriving in the snow room with a simple, brief gesture
– as I said, a very commanding presence. Once Andrea was sorted,
we headed up to the Secretary's office for the casting dance. Just as before, Claude's chair was broken, and he fell off twice, even
commenting on it the second time (“Chair's broken, dear.”) The
response from Alice (Pascale Burgess) was hilariously in-character
(something like “what are you gonna do about it?”). Then we
slipped off to a brief meeting with Stanford, followed by the Codfish
Ball. I made a point to pay attention to what he was doing, however
difficult I find it to do so when Faye (any Faye, really) is in the
room. When I had previously seen him and Miranda Mac Letten do this
scene, I came away feeling that she was much more dominant in the
interaction than the other Fayes. Watching him, I realized just how
wrong I was. He was completely in control of the whole thing,
winning the battle of wills with her simply by virtue of the fact
that he wasn't really fighting. He was just doing his thing,
completely unfazed. The thing that cemented this for me is the
way that he danced alongside her before he got up on stage, mimicking
and perhaps even mocking her movements. He was toying with her,
having a bit of fun while he waited to pounce.
After the next audition, I left him, even though we hadn't quite come
full circle. In the end, I came away slightly dissatisfied. The
performance was fantastic and the dancing was utterly unique within
the show, but the emotional connection wasn't there. This version of
Claude is just too cool – he's not bothered by anything, so neither
was I. It's basically what I always assumed Claude to be like, which
is why I was so impressed with David Essing's version in December –
his descent from suave, controlling studio executive to a pathetic,
rejected creature was harrowing and completely unexpected. I guess I wound up feeling the same
way about Ira's Claude as I did about Lucia Choccaro's PA – highly
effective as part of the ensemble, but not as compelling as the focus
of their own story. It's telling that there is a whole scene I
didn't mention above (the boardroom dance over photos of Frankie)
because I absolutely cannot remember where in the loop it happened.
Mostly because it doesn't really matter where it happened.
My next stop would surely prove to be more fun, though – I was
revisiting another old favorite, Kathryn McGarr's Seamstress.
Knowing how rarely she was playing the role in the final weeks, I
figured there was a good chance this would be her final night – so
I certainly wasn't going to miss it. I found her in her workroom
almost immediately, but just as immediately, I wound up in a holding
pattern – after a brief discussion with Stanford (Sam Booth), she
disappeared into a 1:1. I hung out in the workroom, and was rewarded
for my patience when Faye arrived to pick up her shoes and dress.
Oddly enough, she didn't go for the new blue dress that was hanging
up in the usual spot (and which I had seen her wear when I did the
full loop with her), but instead went digging in the back to find the
classic-style floral dress. When the Seamstress arrived she hadn't
actually changed into either dress (inspiring a bit of sympathetic panic from me - there's a timeline to maintain!), and they
had a brief discussion, during which Faye was told to “pick
whichever you like. . . if it fits.” Ouch. She went classic, and
was soon on her way.
Next we headed out to the shop so that she could prepare a charm for
the closet ambush, then proceeded to the ambush itself. I got to
see, for the first time, what it looks like from the outside, several
people back. It doesn't look particularly interesting, to be honest, although I know from experience that it was pretty awesome for whoever it was that she grabbed.
She finally continued on, back into the Studio, followed slowly and
painfully by a stumbling throng of white masks who couldn't even
begin to find their way through the clothing maze. I guess I can't
blame them – it is, after all, a maze – but that didn't make it
any less frustrating, knowing that somewhere up ahead, my character
was moving on while I was trapped in the dark. If I was smart, I
would have gone around – out into the arcade and back in through
either the cinema or the back door – but by the time I realized how
bad it was, it was much too late.
Eventually I emerged into the workroom, and of course the Seamstress
was nowhere to be seen. Running through the loop in my head, I quickly headed over to the Doctor's
office where, as expected, she was mid-discussion with him. Of
course, by that time the room was completely packed full, so I
couldn't see or hear anything – so I bided my time out in the exam
room until she passed through. She paused in the doorway, writing
down the last of the Doctor's instructions, then cast a sassy glance
in my direction, snapping, “wouldn't want to forget that, now would
we?”
Back in the workroom, she quickly prepared the charm and dress for
Romola, then stood in the door with them, watching as she (Sarah
Sweeney) walked past. I had thought that bit was unique to Annabeth
Berkeley's Seamstress, but evidently not. Then it was time for the
infidelity ballet, and Andrea's forced medication. I was surprised
to see that the Seamstress looked a bit troubled by the whole thing.
A lot of pieces were starting to come together – something was very
different about this loop, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Once Romola came in and started her scene with Conrad (Adam Burton),
I watched the Seamstress gather up her things and take them back to
the workroom. When she left again to retrieve Romola, I stayed
behind – with crowds like that, it was better to make sure I staked
out a decent spot for the makeup scene. And it was indeed a decent
spot – the best spot, really – but then the crowds came in and
filled in the spaces on all sides of me, including in front. I had
left what I thought was the appropriate amount of space between
myself and the actors, but apparently I overestimated. Fortunately,
the Seamstress came to my rescue by handing me the makeup chart, and
the people in front of me had to move to either side so that she
could see it.
I was, of course, in no position to follow them out of the room when
Romola ran off down to her shrine, but I wasn't too bothered. It was
just about 1:1 time anyway, and I had no interest in trying to fight
through those crowds. Better to just settle in for another round of
waiting. But then, to my surprise, the Seamstress returned and had a
little bit of a breakdown over the makeup instructions. She tore off
the page, folded it, and shoved it at a white mask, shouting, “Always
remember what we've done,” in a bitter, accusatory tone. That was
the final piece falling into place. This is not the same Seamstress
I saw last time I followed Kathryn McGarr. She used to be nasty,
cruel, and vicious. She enjoyed the game playing and manipulation.
She felt no guilt over Romola. But now. . .
Presumably, somewhere along the way Kathryn decided to change it up.
But I prefer to think of it another way. I like the idea that the
months between the two loops I did with her actually happened for the
character, that she continued looping through the story all that
time, and that it eventually wore her down. Her feelings began to
change, and she transformed into the Seamstress I now saw before me.
She never did wind up doing a 1:1. Instead, she set about preparing
a charm for Frankie, dipping it into two different mysterious
bottles. All the while she stared me down, repeating his mantra -
“It's bright being a star.” Eventually it seemed to morph into a
question - “It's bright being a star, isn't it?” I'm not sure if those last two words were ever spoken, but they certainly found their way into her tone of voice. I wasn't sure
how I was supposed to react, so I nodded. Just a little, mind you –
almost imperceptibly. Hedging my bets, you might say – if she did
want a response, there was one. If not, maybe no one would notice my reaction.
She put the charm into a jacket pocket, then carried it out to the
shop. I followed, and we settled in there for a few minutes, during
which she again locked on to me and started half-asking me about
brightness and stars. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME, WOMAN?????
Eventually Frankie stumbled out into the street and she went to
retrieve him. Ah, relief. For the first time ever, I followed the
Seamstress out into the street, abandoning my usual strategy of
waiting inside for her to return, but somehow still wound up with a
decent view once we piled back into the shop. The Seamstress's
reaction to news of Romola's death was haunting – not sadness, but
rather a sort of blank horror. Shell-shock. Whatever guilt or
sadness she felt was too much for her to even fully process.
Once Frankie was re-dressed and sent on his way, we went downstairs
for the snow room scene with Wendy (Katherine Cowie) and Andrea. As
the crowds filtered in, one of the masks decided the best place to
watch Wendy and Andrea prepare for the scene from was a seated
position right on the snow mound. And here I figured everyone coming
to these last few shows was probably a veteran, and would know
better. My mistake. As if to prove the point, there was another
mask who got a bit too close to the center of the action, and had to
quickly back away. She wound up taking a tumble and nearly taking a
few of us along before we righted her. Geez – you start a new loop
and everything just falls apart.
Soon after, the Seamstress picked a white mask to carry shoes for
her, and I knew she was heading up for the 1:1. This was somewhere
in the neighborhood of where I came in, so I said my mental goodbyes
and moved on into town, where I planned to pick up Adam Burton's Conrad for one
last go-around.
I found him a little later in his loop than I expected, already
undressing in the Horse & Stars. Aghast at the sight of all the
masks trying to follow him through the Saddlery, I took off through
the trailer park and staked out my bit of real estate in the motel
room before he got there. The lecture was professional and snappy as
always, lightened up by a woman who leapt at the opportunity to
undress Conrad almost before he got his leg up. Things took a slight
turn near the end, though, when Conrad got to his dark/light
analogy. He tied one shoe with his eyes open, sticking his fingers
through the loops and bringing them together to show that they were
the same size. Then he demonstrated how much different things can be
in the dark by tying the other shoe with his eyes shut, sticking his
fingers through the loops and. . . . bringing them together to show
that they were the same size. Oops.
“Well,” he said. “Looks like I'm pretty good. But that
doesn't change the point: Things are different in the dark.” Or
something along those lines, anyway.
On the way into the studio, I sneakily worked my way around the
Conrad/Gatekeeper (Paul O'Shea) scene and managed to be the first one
down the stairs after him- but once out in the open, I was quickly
overtaken by his throngs of adoring fans and wound up literally eight
rows back from the door by the time we made it to his dressing room.
It was crazy. As the crowds dispersed, I had a seat at Andrea's
dressing table and started perusing the script she had laid out. I'm
kind of embarrassed to say that it took me several minutes to
identify it as “Charade.” As soon as I managed that, Andrea
herself showed up and kicked me out (actually, she pretended I wasn't
even there, but the effect was the same). I got up and hovered
around the backstage nexus for a while until Conrad emerged, and
followed them to Studio 3 for the magic trick. It's lots of fun, as
usual, and I'm always impressed with the grace with which Fania
descends into the box, kicking one leg up into the air and then just
disappearing straight down, with no sign that she's actually folding
herself up.
After the trick, despite heading in the direction of the exit a
little early, I wound up having enough difficulty with the crowds
that I lost Conrad and Andrea in the hallway. It wasn't a big deal –
after all, I knew where to find them again, but it was enough to
force a decision – I had to abandon the loop. There were just too
many people, and I wasn't enjoying it.
Hoping for some peace and quiet, I decided to check another item off
of my to-do list: follow the Gatekeeper. I found him in his office
by the gates, as always, but it turned out to be a case of “be
careful what you wish for,” because I wound up very bored, very
quickly. There are people I know who swear by him, but it just
didn't work for me.
I wound up wandering for the rest of the show, desperately looking
for someone or something that I wanted to follow. Nothing presented
itself – we were too close to the end of the show. Frankly, it had
turned out to be a bit of a disaster in the end. I was getting more
and more worked up and irritated, horrified that I was wasting
precious time so close to the end of the run. Finally, I remembered
that oh-so-important lesson from New Year's Eve: A show can only go
badly if you let it go badly. Attitude matters more than anything
else.
Or, to put it another way, your bearing shapes your fate.
I took a seat on the bench near the fountain in town, took a deep
breath, and just waited. I sat there, taking in the atmosphere and
looking around this space that I love so much, enjoying a brief bit
of quiet and solitude. The tension and angst slowly melted away, and
by the time Tuttle (Matthew Blake) came by with his entourage, I was
ready to join them on their journey downstairs to the finale.
Even with that last-minute save, this was easily the weakest of the
four final week shows I had attended thus far. It came the closest to being
what I worried the entire week might be like, overstuffed and
frustrating. Realistically, though, I shouldn't complain – I had two
solid loops, and things only fell apart toward the end. If that's as
bad as things ever got, I would have to consider myself lucky.
By the way, that is, in fact, exactly as bad as things ever got. Four more
shows, and it only gets better from here.
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