Tech week

Tech week is grueling. Tech week is important. It is when you add all of the technical elements to the acting elements. We have been rehearsing for a month. The technical people have been planning and designing and working out problems for that whole month … and this is their week. This is when they take over. And eventually – by the end of tech week – we come together. The actors come together with the technical elements – and ideally – we all become one. And we become THE PLAY. Something bigger than ourselves. THE PLAY. We all have one goal. It’s truly beautiful if I step out of the whirlwind and really look at it. I walked into the theatre tonight on 43rd Street – our first “time” in the theatre – and “load in” was today. All the flats loaded in, etc – everything that eventually will be our set. So I walked in, through the lobby, to see a total Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory situation in the theatre. People were EVERYWHERE. People were hanging from the rafters with screw guns, guys with cloth gloves were moving flats, there was wood and wood shavings EVERYWHERE – stuff piled up, cables running out into the lobby – it looks like utter chaos, although it is completely controlled. Hard to believe it will all be cleaned up not only by Saturday but by tomorrow. There were groups of people huddled over the floor plans … sudden called-out questions – everyone moving, and passing, and crossing – carrying ladders … people moving out of the way … a beautiful dance of cooperation. Meanwhile, the sound people sat up in the house, working out their cues – so random bursts of sound would come out into the air, adding to the cacophany. Snippets of music, a motorcycle starting up, a police siren … the levels adjusted … Otis Redding (“Try a little tenderness” is an important cue in the play) … So we’ve got buzzing electric saws, we’ve got banging hammers, and we’ve got “Try a little tenderness” booming through the space …

I just LOVE tech week. Mainly because it’s about collaboration. We, the actors, have been working our asses off. We are focused on ONE THING. Our performances. That’s as it should be. But meanwhile – off out of sight (at least as far as the cast is concerned) – are all these OTHER people … figuring out how to make the floor, how to hang the lights, collecting sound cues … trying to bring the vision of the playwright and the director to fruition. These are practical people, sure, they walk around with tool belts – but they’re artists, make no mistake about it.

The girl designing our sound is just wonderful – she’s been coming to rehearsals to take notes on where she thinks sounds should go – she is a completely technical person. That’s her job. But I’ve seen her take notes from our director. During a break, she will play for him some of the sound cues she’s put together … He will listen, and he will think about it, and then say, “I think it needs to be darker. More eerie. You know … like it suggests a whole other underground world. Something from out of a dream.” He speaks to her in the language of an artist. It is her job to interpret it, and to find the right thing. She will nod, take notes, and come back with another choice … It’s just BEAUTIFUL. How all the elements come together, and how everyone is so essential.

I was early, so I sat out in the theatre to watch for a while. Of course, pretty much every seat in the theatre was filled with … STUFF. People’s knapsacks, coats … electrical saws lying peacefully in a plush seat that by next week will be occupied by some blue-haired subscription member … heh heh … There are tables placed over some of the seats … so that the sound people can spread out their work and see what they’re doing.

I watch two guys put down the floor. They’re both big beefy guys, they’re wearing cloth gloves, they have enormous tape measures clipped to their belts. They are serious, focused. They are working on OUR show. They are CARPENTERS but they are working in the theatre. They are here … for US. By next week, it’s going to be ALL ABOUT US … the ones in the spotlight … but literally: it cannot be overstated how important these people are. Their job at the moment is huge and takes up a lot of space – they need people to get out of their way … they gently tap people on the shoulder with their big cloth-glove fingers … “Sorry … maybe you could move over there?” People give, bend, are flexible … because everyone has the same goal. Occasionally, one of the big beefy guys makes a joke to the other one … and the other one guffaws with laughter.

I fell deeply in love with them both, frankly.

I’m a sucker for the tech guys.

I could have sat there watching for hours … although that would have been highly obnoxious. To watch other people working. It would have been rude not to pitch in.

But the thing about tech week that so GETS me … is the practicality of it all. The marriage of practicality with the high-flying ups and downs of art.

Watching everyone bustle around like Oompa Loompas made me ache with pride. That I’m a small part of it all.

It’s gonna be a long feckin’ week.

Also – I had a moment of exhilaration: walking to work through Times Square. I work here. Most of the other shows I have done have been way downtown. Below Houston. If you’re a New Yorker, you’ll know what that means. It’s great, it’s always great to have a job … but to have a job in Times Square …

I have been going non-stop for weeks now … and I know I need to just take a moment, occasionally, and look around me and … give thanks. I walked on 42nd Street, with the crazy lights, and the neon, and the throngs, and the nuttiness … and I took a second, a quick second to say, “Thank you … whoever … thank you … This is just so … cool …”

Imagining the little girl that I was … the little girl with the huge dreams … and how she would feel if she could see me now …

Now I’m crying.

But that’s okay. It’s all a part of tech week.