Tuesday, February 19, 2013

A long long time ago (and very far away) I directed a play called 4:48 Psychosis by a very smart girl called Sarah Kane.

Aside from being smart, this Ms Kane had an absolutely lovely way with words and this proved to be one of the principle pleasures of directing her work.

So when the cast of eight universally rebelled and said they would not could not should not have to learn one particular section of dialogue, I felt the director's old faithful familiar flash flicker dab of rage. But we practised and practised and indeed, it appeared to prove impossible for them to learn it. So in the end, capitulation was forced onto me. We pre-recorded the rogue section and played it out over their shameful shame-faced heads come the performance.

Not that I have never forgiven them or anything.

But this month, eight or maybe nine years on from the pre-recorded debut, I find sympathy in my heart.

I have about three lines in Jerusalem. But I'm finding them IMPOSSIBLE to learn.


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