The Rehearsal Hall

Richard Mongiat has been a Lead Scenic Artist for almost 20 years. He has taught painting at Central Technical School and Ryerson University in Toronto. In addition to painting the unique and stunning transparent backdrop for our production of Doc, Richard has exhibited his own creative work in galleries across Canada.

Richard Mongiat & Elizabeth Bailey begin work on the backdrop for Doc.

Painting a transparent backdrop is always a tricky proposition because they can be so unforgiving to paint! Just to explain, a transparent drop is different from an ordinary backdrop because it is painted much in the same style as a watercolour painting. An ordinary backdrop is usually painted with a primer coat first and the successive layers of paint are applied (mostly) opaquely like an oil/acrylic painting. Because of the opacity of the paint you can easily fix mistakes by just painting over them! With a transparent drop each mark you make is permanent – there’s no going back! The advantage of this process of painting in layers with watered down paints is that the weave of the actual fabric never becomes filled or “blocked” allowing the lighting designer to place/focus lights directly behind the drop to create a glow in areas as well as other lighting effects.

Painting any kind of backdrop is a demanding physical proposition because as the scenic artists you’re transforming a designer’s rendering of say 12 x 24 inches into something 20 x 40 feet! You need lots of open floor space because the backdrop is squared up and tacked flat on the floor. A grid is applied to the drop (no different than when the renaissance masters painted their murals) in order to scale the drawing up from the designers rendering to the drop (usually 1/2″ on the rendering would represent 1′ on the actual backdrop). A variety of painting techniques are employed to reach the desired effects. Paint is brushed on with the paintbrushes attached to bamboo sticks as you’re standing on the drop as you paint it. It is sprayed on with garden variety weed sprayers using hamster bedding purchased from a pet store placed on areas of the drop to act as a “mask” stopping paint from going where you don’t want it to (and leaving an interesting texture once removed). Finally, in this case it is also “spattered” on. This technique involves dipping your brush in paint and literally throwing it on the drop. This creates a fine to coarse speckled effect depending on how loaded your brush is with paint.

Scenic painting is a very collaborative process involving lots discussion and strategizing – between the designer and the painters and between the painters themselves. Elizabeth Bailey and I worked closely with the designer Astrid Janson to reach the final effect. Astrid would visit the paint shop to witness our progress, make comments and suggestions as to direction and to seek suggestions from us on the best ways to achieve her desired result.

Mongiat & Bailey at work.

Brenda Robins in Faith Healer. Photo: Cylla von Tiedemann.

Brenda Robins stars in What the Butler Saw, on stage August 19. She has performed in over ten Soulpepper productions in the past, and co-adapted (with Adam Pettle) our Dora Award-winning production of Parfumerie in 2009.

A few months ago I got a call from my agent.

My agent: Soulpepper wants you to play Mrs. Prentice in a production of What the Butler Saw.

Me: That’s great.

My agent: You know the play?

Me: No, but last year Loot was a big hit; it was also by Joe Orton and it was also directed by Jim Warren. The cast talked about what fun it was to perform and summer is a good time for farce. Please ask them to send me a script, I’ll read it and call you back.

Script arrives.

Page 1: The play takes place in a psychiatric clinic. Talk about potential – a tantalizing encounter between Dr. Prentice and Geraldine. (Mrs. Prentice doesn’t arrive until the next scene. This is good. Starting a play off is always nerve wracking and a huge responsibility. This way I get more time to pace backstage.)

Page 6: Mrs Prentice enters from the hall. She is wearing a costly fur coat. She has a quick and bitchy exchange with her husband and heads for the whiskey bottle. I like her, she’s ballsy. More banter. It’s got some bite. A young man arrives. Evidently he and Mrs. Prentice have shared some kind of erotic interlude. Intriguing. (Margin note – find out who is playing the young man.)

Page 7: Mrs. Prentice pours herself a drink.

Page 8: Mrs. Prentice pours herself a drink.

Pages 9 and 10: She pours herself a drink. The young man leaves. Another acid dialogue with her husband.

Page 12: She slips off her fur coat. Under it she is wearing only a slip. What?!? Wait. One thing I already know about this woman, there is nothing demure about her underwear. (Margin note – find out who is designing this show.) Thank goodness for Spanx, i.e. heavily elasticized foundation garments – the underwear equivalent of sausage casings.

Off stage for a little while. Returns Page 26: Pours herself a drink.

Page 29: Pours herself a drink.

Page 31, 33, 39: Pours a drink, drinks! I count 12 drinks in all! Don’t they know I have a bladder problem?

Page 55: Screams loudly, page 60: shrieks, page 65: cries out in alarm, page 69: gets smacked in the face and has her dress torn away, page 74: fires a gun, page 74: fires again, page 75: screams, page 77: has her face slapped, shrieks hysterically, crashes to the floor, gets tied into a straight jacket…!!!! And that’s just my character. I call my agent.

My agent: So what do you think?

Me: I don’t know what to think.

My agent: Do you want to do it?

Me: Oh yeah!

P.S. We are three weeks into rehearsals. Jim is a smart and rigorous director, the cast is absolutely wonderful as is the stage management team and our designers and our builders. And we are already having fun and my underpants are dry.

Jane Spidell appears in Soulpepper’s production of Sharon Pollock’s Doc, and has recently performed in The Africa Trilogy, Volcano Theatre’s acclaimed three-part play for the Luminato Festival.

Fredericton is actually my hometown – I was ten when I left – but I still have memories of it, and it happens to be the city where Doc takes place. As luck would have it, I was driving out to New Brunswick for a few days and I asked Sharon Pollock about places I could take pictures of – any places where ghosts are still walking around.

Sharon Pollock's childhood home.

Portrait of Everett "Doc" Chalmers

Cornerstone dedicated to Dr. Chalmers

Dr. Everett Chalmers Regional Hospital

Gregory Prest in rehearsal. Photo: Sian Richards.

Here is part two of yesterday’s post about the process of working on Anton Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. For part one,
Click Here >>

7.  In the theatre we make an agreement with our fellow actors to hurt and be hurt by each other (especially emotionally). This cannot be faked.

8.  “What can we do?” and “How can we do it?” are far more interesting than “This is how it is done” and “This is the only way it works.” In this process we visited Bouffon, Commedia, Naturalism, Viewpoints, Actioning, productions by Strehler, Stein, Pina Bausch, games, research, endless conversations, countless translations, learning Russian phrases, all wearing white, wigs, make-up, individual set and costume designs, complete recasting, massive cuts, Eric Peterson playing Firs, four different rehearsal rooms, making a mini-documentary about our personal relationship to debt.  We created a culture that came up with “Treat Saturday” and invented the phrases “ABK – Always Be Killing” and “Mini-van” as a verb to mean making a seemingly idiotic scene proposal that will hopefully reveal something.  We had many laughs and many tears. How much of this process revealed itself in what our audience experienced, I don’t know.  What it did do is to create a massive shared toolbox.

9.  Sometimes being part of a group means making room for someone to be an individual and opt out of ensemble activities – then accepting them back in when they are ready to rejoin.

10.  When you are unsure, make a proposal – at least then there is something on the table to be discussed.

11.  Focus is active. It is something that you have to practice. It is not a state of being. The struggle to be present is what creates presence.

12.  Extensive research of the world the playwright is writing from and writing to gives you something to feed on the whole way through rehearsals, opening and the run. Fattening yourself up with this prevents feeding on your ego in hungry times of uncertainty.

13.  Being given a question in response to a question can be very frustrating. But frustration is at times useful and necessary. There is a great line from Ovid’s Metamorphosis: “frustration, prolonged, begets invention.”

Gregory Prest and Karen Rae in The Cherry Orchard. Photo: Cylla von Tiedemann.

Gregory Prest is a graduate of the National Theatre School and has performed for Tarragon Theatre, Next Stage, and the Canadian Opera Company.

My name is Gregory Prest and I’m a part of the Soulpepper Academy. On and off for the past 15 months or so, we have been working with Daniel Brooks in an exploration of Chekhov’s last play The Cherry Orchard, culminating in a 10 show run in the Tankhouse as part of the Lab Series. Trying to explain the process would be like showing you a photo of my extended family and trying to convey to you the delicate nature of the hundreds of relationships among people who, to you, are strangers. So I’ve decided to do something else.

I’ve compiled a list of thirteen thoughts, observations and things I have learned from my time working with Daniel, the group, the audience and The Cherry Orchard in no particular order. The first half of the list is below, and part two will be posted tomorrow:

1. It’s more challenging to say yes than to say no. No keeps you secure in what you know. Yes is risky.

2. People like their Chekhov like they like their eggs. I worked in a restaurant for a few years and if there is one thing that people are very particular about – almost severe – it’s their eggs.

3. When things work onstage and the magic happens – time stops.

4. Never get attached to anything. Especially feelings. A discovery is made in rehearsal or in front of an audience – it’s a magic moment that changes you. We think, “I have solved the riddle of the Sphinx.” Then we have to repeat it. And of course you can’t repeat it exactly because it will never FEEL the same way. You think, “I’ve lost it. The audience won’t believe me because it doesn’t feel as true as when I found it.” Then we spend too much energy trying to find what a moment felt like when it would be a better use of energy to assess what you were attempting to do when the ‘magic’ happened. Always go back to what created the opportunity for that discovery not to what that moment felt like.

5. Nothing is personal – but it’s always personal.

6. There is no one right way to do things – but there are many incorrect ways of doing things. They are incorrect when the choices do not serve the story.

Charles Vandervaart makes his Soulpepper debut with Turgenev’s A Month in the Country, on stage now.

László Marton and Charles Vandervaart. Photo: Michael Murphy.

Hi, my name is Charles Vandervaart and I am 9 years old. I am playing the part of Kolya in A Month in the Country. This is my first performance at Soulpepper and I am so very excited.

I love coming to work. I wasn’t called in too much when school was on, but now that school has ended, I am at the Young Centre every day in rehearsals.

Everyone at Soulpepper is so nice to me. I have had great conversations with them. Just the other day, Mr. Webster (Bill) and I spoke for a very long time, during a break, about science and basketball, two things I love. The cast call me all different names – Prince Cinnamon Boots, Chuck, Charlie, Chaz and Prop. Jeff Lillico, my Russian tutor in the play, likes to throw me around. So, Nancy, the stage manager, told him to put the prop down. That is how I got the nickname Prop. It was really funny.

I love to help Nancy and Janet – the stage managers – clean up and get the rehearsal hall ready for rehearsal.

Mr. Marton, the director, is so nice to me. He calls me his third son. He works really hard with all the actors. He wants them to be their very best. Mr. Marton has taught me about connecting with the other actors in a scene. He also explained how to “spice” up your performance so it is natural. Your actions in a scene are not rehearsed but felt as you do the scene. Every time you perform a scene it will be different. This makes everything natural and real.

The actors sure do eat a lot of fruit when they are doing their scenes.

I have learned so much from Mr. Marton, the other actors and the stage managers. Every day, I learn more new things. I am so lucky to be working with them all and learning how to be a real actor. My dream is to be as good as the other actors one day.

Oliver Dennis has been with Soulpepper for 11 seasons, and stars as Phil in Jitters, on stage now.

Oliver Dennis in rehearsal for Jitters. Photo: Sian Richards.

I’ve just recently found out from whence the word “corpsing” comes. Corpsing is what actors call being out of character and laughing on stage. All these years doing it and I never questioned the origin of the word. I don’t know the details: The whos, the whys, the whens and the wheres (if you know perhaps you could comment on this post). Noah says Laurence Olivier was involved. In any case – and perhaps it’s obvious if you think about it – it came from an actor playing a dead person on stage who began giggling and jiggling in full view of the audience.

Corpsing is considered very unprofessional and I have to admit to being prone to it. I’m not sure whether I lack the concentration, as an actor, to stay focused on the character/action/play, or whether the joy I feel at what I do bubbles over too much, or maybe a combination of both (there also could be other psychological origins that I’d rather not delve into). I do know that I need to be on that razors edge to be inventive: If I can make myself and the rest of the room laugh, I must be onto something.

During rehearsals for A Chorus of Disapproval (2002), Albert had me do a sort of high stepping, walking, strutting action while speaking in a play within a play, with a British North Country accent that sounded slightly Texan (according to Albert). This tickled me so much I never made it through rehearsing the scene without corpsing. It was so bad Albert had to direct me to “corpse” in an earlier scene so the latter scene wouldn’t appear to be the actor corpsing, but rather the character corpsing.

Corpsing tends to happen most with happy shows. Shows where people enjoy each others company, where jokes are traded and stories told. I’m corpsing a lot in this show and I’m not the only one.