Since I last wrote, not only have we finished rehearsals in Denver, but previewed, opened and ran the show there, and rehearsed, previewed and ran the show in Miami!
These months have been very busy, as you can imagine. We went into rehearsals in Denver optimistically thinking that there would be a few minor changes. But, although the changes in general were minor, there were a lot of them. Switching the character of Haskell from a tenor to a baritone required many transpositions, and things that worked for a tenor no longer worked in the same way which meant reconceiving a number of moments. Transition music that worked fine in the tiny CAP21 space in New York was usually far too short to cover the 20-yard slide of a table from the wings in the huge Denver space -- that is except in the cases where automation replaced the stumbling in the dark of actors carrying heavy furniture with a graceful glide on a track, and the music could be shortened. Trims in dialogue required trims in underscoring; trims in songs required adjustments in text; changes in interpretation required re-orchestration and other revisions. Sections were cut, restored, revised, cut, and restored again. There was some serious tinkering going on. Where we thought we'd be spending a lot of time in the gym or admiring the gorgeous vistas we spent the bulk of our time staring into computer monitors and chasing down pages from distant printers.
But, oh, what a glorious production it was! Whatever occurs in the future of the show, I'm sure this will be remembered as the dream production. It is without doubt one of the most beautiful productions of any show I've ever experience -- I felt privileged to be a part of it! Ralph Funicello's set was amazing: a two-level house, with Haskell's bedroom (formerly Charley's) upstairs, rolling hills, sere grasses, and that gorgeous 70-foot-wide drop based on the Embry painting. For the first change of location, from the house to the store, the two-story element of the house tore itself away and slid out into the wing, the main portion moving to center stage and straightening out and a damaged saloon sign flew in (to accompany this scene change, I wrote the appropriately titled "Housewrecker Change"). The house continued to morph and metamorphize throughout the course of the evening.
Andrew V. Yelusich's costumes were so perfect as to be an extension of the characters themselves. Not only were they true to period, but they so perfectly expressed the character and the character's current state, exposed the gulf between the Americans and the immigrants, and were born from the same Texan palate from which came the sets and the drop.
The lighting, by Don Darnutzer, was itself a wholly new kinetic element to the piece. Skies in constant motion, from storms to dry, hot desert days bleaching and bearing down on the scenes, melting into dazzling sunsets. (We joked about getting wasted and lying on the floor, just watching the lighting go through its paces.)
The sound, led by David White, was transparent and clean, lending the hoped-for acoustic sound to a challenging semi-circular room. And everything, down to the smallest hand prop, was thoroughly thought out -- each a perfect piece to the larger puzzle of the play.
For more about The Immigrant and what's up with it,
visit the semi-official website at http://www.knappalper.com/immigrant.html.
Originally published at Suite101.com Theatre, 3/26/02
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