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The entry I am reimagining is here:
https://autumn-wind.dreamwidth.org/5429.html
The grand reception hall was heaving, everyone sipping the complimentary glasses of champagne, munching on tasty nibbles and brimming with anticipation for the night's entertainment, the annual opera event.
Everyone in the reception hall was excited, filled with anticipation. Backstage, there was a whole different mood of uneasiness as singers and techs alike whispered nervously. Winifred knew that the only story that mattered that night was the story of Carmen and Don Jose. As stage manager, Winifred's job was to make sure that the brilliance of the performance was the only thing the audience noticed tonight.
People had travelled from far and wide for this special event at the Balor Arts Centre in Donegal town for the Welsh National Opera's production of Carmen! People had paid for train tickets, for gas, for hotel rooms, not to mention for opera tickets. And it was Winifred's job to make sure that they felt they got the show they had paid for. Not the show that was currently waging back stage.
"Ten minutes. Ten minutes to curtain."
After the disastrous dress rehearsal, Winifred knocked on Natalia's door with trepidation. Usually she just knocked, announced "Ten minutes," and walked on, but she felt she needed to see if Natalia was going to be a professional tonight.
Last night during the dress rehearsal, the Natalia hadn't exactly followed the script.
In the last scene, Natalia as Carmen was supposed to say:
"This ring that you
once gave to me -
here, take it!"
And then she was supposed to throw it.
All was well, she said, "This ring that you once gave to me --- here, take it [but she went on] and shove it on the big toe of that cow you married. I can't believe I once loved you, you Oaf!!!"
Then, rather than dying dramatically, she ran off the stage screaming, "You LiAAAAAAHHHHH R!" Like a true professional, she trilled the word dramatically, 'til the last ahhh hit a G above the C above middle C)
"And uh, Cut?" Powell, the director, who until then had been coasting, paying only half-hearted hung over attention (or lack there of), had rushed on to stage.
"And uh, we all know the ending. That's a wrap. Call time, 5pm. Local time. And I'll figure out what Natalia is tamping No worries!" Somehow, Natalia's dramatics had invigorated Powell. He then rushed off the stage, exiting on the same side where Natalia had run off.
Winifred had panicked last night, but handling disasters, both major and minor, was what stage managing was all about. She left Natalia to Powell and spent the rest of her evening calming down every other singer, tech worker, orchestra member, and volunteer. It wasn't as hard as she expected either. Just a lot of listening and reassuring. Through the years, she'd learned that when calming others, the same phrases could be used over and over. The main thing to remember was to present herself as calm, collected, and unworried. Her projected mood was what really made the difference when a cast was worried or upset.
Finally, as the last tech was turning the lights off. Winifred walked through the stage, now lit by the ghost light, to find Powell.
She searched every corner, but found no sign of him, Luigi, or Natalia. She decided to shoot him a text and head to her apartment. Tomorrow was the performance, so she'd need to be back at the theatre bright and early.
~~~~~~~~~
The weather was bright and sunny when she awoke the next morning. Winifred hadn't heard much from Powell except a short text "It's handled" the night before. She trusted him, but wondered how he'd fixed such a big rift between stars with such big egos. The bigger an opera singers stardom, it usually seemed the bigger the black hole of their egos. In Winifred's experience, great talent rarely seemed to arrive cloaked in deep emotional intelligence. So often, it didn't seem it was the emotionally adjusted or well-rounded people who poured their souls into the finicky world of art.
All these thoughts were going through Winifred's mind as she walked into Natalia's dressing room, "Natalia are you..."
"It's handled, like I said." Powell was fastening a dressing gown around his (oh, gosh Winifred hoped somewhat clothed) waist.
"Bye, my love," Natalia giggled and waved coyly, as Powell strode deliberately for the dressing room door.
"Uh, good?" Winifred said. "I just, was checking to make sure you are happy, Natalia."
"Oh yes, so happy!" Again, that strangely girlish giggle. It might have been cute coming from a 12 year old, but seemed almost demonic from the overly rouged nearly 40 year old Natalia.
"Now, my hair looks fine, yes? I'll be out in just a minute. You run along, Winifred."
"Uh...sure?" Winifred left. The world of opera had a way of feeling like "The Twilight Zone."
She exited Natalia's dressing room and headed down the hallway. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm. She gasped as Powell clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Not a word, OK, Winifred? The show must go on and, let's just say, I did my part."
She shook her head. Powell let her go.
"It's none of my business who anyone loves, Powell. You know that!"
"Love. OMG, that has nothing to do with it. Seriously, Winifred, why would you insult me like that? The show must go on, that's all. And sometimes a diva can't seem to act unless someone (and don't you laugh) polishes her very fading ego. That's why we directors are paid the big bucks! But believe me, they aren't big enough!"
Powell stomped off, shaking his head.
Winifred checked her phone. Five minutes to curtain. Time for another round of door knocking!
Though Luigi's performance was stellar, as usual, the critics and fans raved about Natalia's "passionate performance" that night. When Winifred read the reviews, she wondered if Powell would continue directing operas in the future.
Powell's name might be larger than Winifred's in the program, but she'd never again wish for more acclaim. She unfortunately knew more than she wanted to ever learn about how a director could get a star to give, as the critics said, "the performance of a lifetime."
Natalia wondered yet again if maybe she should have just skipped college and stayed a daycare worker. Daycare involved roughly the same number of tantrums, but she hadn't managed a show yet that couldn't have benefited from a frequently used time out chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
In Wales, Tamping is a word used to describe your rage at something frustrating.
Also, the first line in the first and third paragraphs are from Autumn_wind's story, to tie them together.
https://autumn-wind.dreamwidth.org/5429.html
The grand reception hall was heaving, everyone sipping the complimentary glasses of champagne, munching on tasty nibbles and brimming with anticipation for the night's entertainment, the annual opera event.
Everyone in the reception hall was excited, filled with anticipation. Backstage, there was a whole different mood of uneasiness as singers and techs alike whispered nervously. Winifred knew that the only story that mattered that night was the story of Carmen and Don Jose. As stage manager, Winifred's job was to make sure that the brilliance of the performance was the only thing the audience noticed tonight.
People had travelled from far and wide for this special event at the Balor Arts Centre in Donegal town for the Welsh National Opera's production of Carmen! People had paid for train tickets, for gas, for hotel rooms, not to mention for opera tickets. And it was Winifred's job to make sure that they felt they got the show they had paid for. Not the show that was currently waging back stage.
"Ten minutes. Ten minutes to curtain."
After the disastrous dress rehearsal, Winifred knocked on Natalia's door with trepidation. Usually she just knocked, announced "Ten minutes," and walked on, but she felt she needed to see if Natalia was going to be a professional tonight.
Last night during the dress rehearsal, the Natalia hadn't exactly followed the script.
In the last scene, Natalia as Carmen was supposed to say:
"This ring that you
once gave to me -
here, take it!"
And then she was supposed to throw it.
All was well, she said, "This ring that you once gave to me --- here, take it [but she went on] and shove it on the big toe of that cow you married. I can't believe I once loved you, you Oaf!!!"
Then, rather than dying dramatically, she ran off the stage screaming, "You LiAAAAAAHHHHH R!" Like a true professional, she trilled the word dramatically, 'til the last ahhh hit a G above the C above middle C)
"And uh, Cut?" Powell, the director, who until then had been coasting, paying only half-hearted hung over attention (or lack there of), had rushed on to stage.
"And uh, we all know the ending. That's a wrap. Call time, 5pm. Local time. And I'll figure out what Natalia is tamping No worries!" Somehow, Natalia's dramatics had invigorated Powell. He then rushed off the stage, exiting on the same side where Natalia had run off.
Winifred had panicked last night, but handling disasters, both major and minor, was what stage managing was all about. She left Natalia to Powell and spent the rest of her evening calming down every other singer, tech worker, orchestra member, and volunteer. It wasn't as hard as she expected either. Just a lot of listening and reassuring. Through the years, she'd learned that when calming others, the same phrases could be used over and over. The main thing to remember was to present herself as calm, collected, and unworried. Her projected mood was what really made the difference when a cast was worried or upset.
Finally, as the last tech was turning the lights off. Winifred walked through the stage, now lit by the ghost light, to find Powell.
She searched every corner, but found no sign of him, Luigi, or Natalia. She decided to shoot him a text and head to her apartment. Tomorrow was the performance, so she'd need to be back at the theatre bright and early.
~~~~~~~~~
The weather was bright and sunny when she awoke the next morning. Winifred hadn't heard much from Powell except a short text "It's handled" the night before. She trusted him, but wondered how he'd fixed such a big rift between stars with such big egos. The bigger an opera singers stardom, it usually seemed the bigger the black hole of their egos. In Winifred's experience, great talent rarely seemed to arrive cloaked in deep emotional intelligence. So often, it didn't seem it was the emotionally adjusted or well-rounded people who poured their souls into the finicky world of art.
All these thoughts were going through Winifred's mind as she walked into Natalia's dressing room, "Natalia are you..."
"It's handled, like I said." Powell was fastening a dressing gown around his (oh, gosh Winifred hoped somewhat clothed) waist.
"Bye, my love," Natalia giggled and waved coyly, as Powell strode deliberately for the dressing room door.
"Uh, good?" Winifred said. "I just, was checking to make sure you are happy, Natalia."
"Oh yes, so happy!" Again, that strangely girlish giggle. It might have been cute coming from a 12 year old, but seemed almost demonic from the overly rouged nearly 40 year old Natalia.
"Now, my hair looks fine, yes? I'll be out in just a minute. You run along, Winifred."
"Uh...sure?" Winifred left. The world of opera had a way of feeling like "The Twilight Zone."
She exited Natalia's dressing room and headed down the hallway. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm. She gasped as Powell clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Not a word, OK, Winifred? The show must go on and, let's just say, I did my part."
She shook her head. Powell let her go.
"It's none of my business who anyone loves, Powell. You know that!"
"Love. OMG, that has nothing to do with it. Seriously, Winifred, why would you insult me like that? The show must go on, that's all. And sometimes a diva can't seem to act unless someone (and don't you laugh) polishes her very fading ego. That's why we directors are paid the big bucks! But believe me, they aren't big enough!"
Powell stomped off, shaking his head.
Winifred checked her phone. Five minutes to curtain. Time for another round of door knocking!
Though Luigi's performance was stellar, as usual, the critics and fans raved about Natalia's "passionate performance" that night. When Winifred read the reviews, she wondered if Powell would continue directing operas in the future.
Powell's name might be larger than Winifred's in the program, but she'd never again wish for more acclaim. She unfortunately knew more than she wanted to ever learn about how a director could get a star to give, as the critics said, "the performance of a lifetime."
Natalia wondered yet again if maybe she should have just skipped college and stayed a daycare worker. Daycare involved roughly the same number of tantrums, but she hadn't managed a show yet that couldn't have benefited from a frequently used time out chair.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
In Wales, Tamping is a word used to describe your rage at something frustrating.
Also, the first line in the first and third paragraphs are from Autumn_wind's story, to tie them together.
