Performance #3.
In my zeal to get errands done beforehand I left pretty early, made my photocopies, topped up my Oyster card, and dropped into a little bakery to grab a coffee, which turned out to be a colossal mistake. There's a reason chain coffee shops do well in England. I'm totally willing to stand in line at Cafe Nero from now on.
I got to the theatre a good 30 minutes before my makeup call and had enough time to really warm up in peace. Did a little bit of singing through a new aria I'm contemplating, worked on my knitting, and then Eddie came in to begin the 'tarting' of the Queen. Feeling unusually good, looking forward to my dinner with a board member from Seattle, strangely excited but calm about this performance. I think I'm in good voice. Got dressed, more knitting, wait wait wait, got the page on the speaker went up to the stage climb up on the rock veil down here comes George the birdman with my bird. She's a little more ruffled than usual. Curious. So he puts her in my hands, as he always does, and I stroke her back with my thumbs, as I always do, and she starts to fidget. Turns around and looks at me, fidget fidget fidget and then she's really trying to get away from me. Holy shit, I've got this bird in my hands and I'm calling out to George and the stage manager because she really REALLY doesn't want to be in my hands, she's stretching her neck away, digging her little talons into my hands trying to push out, but there's nothing we can do because James has just called the cue for the wall to open and the orchestra is playing the beginning of my aria and if she can just hold on for another ten bars I swear I swear I swear I'll let you go little bird just bear with meOKAYGOTHEN. Whew.
Things that are beyond your control, volume two: live animals onstage. Once she's out of my hands, she's no longer my problem, thankfully. I was thinking about something the conductor had said to me the other night about practicing patience and how it's so hard for him not to rush Pamina's aria. Practicing patience. Consciously collecting yourself and keeping it level. So that's what I decided to try with my girl Queenie. Not letting myself get completely lost in the moment - playing the intent but reminding myself, me the singer, to breathe deeply. And I have to say, I wish those jackass critics had been there last night because I WAS ON FIRE.
Feeling really really good, I got out of the costume and worked on the knitting and sat in my dressing gown feeling generally very pleased. Once the interval is over, Act II comes up pretty quickly so there isn't much time to fiddle with things - the scene starts out strong, and I've got my scene partner for only the second time ever, I'm going to take my time and make sure we're really communicating. Practice patience. Be in the moment, control the dialogue as I'm meant to, not just as we rehearsed it. [Stepping out of this for a moment, I have to say that Mozart is not especially kind to Queens in the second act. The vengeance aria starts out with this trembling rush that sort of whoooshes out and you've only got a bar and a half to get your shit together before you've got to be on it like white on rice. There isn't a long prelude to get you into the mood, or to give you time to adjust. This is a superman-pulls-off-his-clothes-while-taking-off-type entrance, not a batman-goes-down-the-elevator-and-puts-on-his-suit-and-gets-in-the-car-type entrance.] But I'm the one driving this train so I've got to make sure I'm in control. Take the moment, really breathe deeply, look into her eyes and then sing to the dress circle, show the crazy but don't feel the crazy, BREATHE and do it again, okay the f's are over, now it's on to the serious singing you know how to do this, even though you're dragging her across the floor don't forget to breathe slam the knife into her hand crazy woman crazy woman crazy woman breathe and nail it to the back wall, turn and swish and exit. Nailed it.
Tamino, the kidder that he is, is amused when I tell him that I'm really hungry. If I'm meant to take him at his word, it's possible that fries might appear at some juncture during the run. That's photo op #2: Queen of Night eats french fries in costume. Right after photo op #1: Queen of Night knitting socks and drinking tea in costume. It's so going to happen.
It was an evening of peril and unexpected complication. The match meant to light my taper nearly blew out, and then my taper nearly blew out before it was supposed to, but the quick change went smoothly and we all made it upstairs in plenty of time for the bows. It was an especially warm audience, and they were very kind to our cover Pamina, who really did a marvelous job. Dashing back to my dressing room because I'm meeting the Seattle board guy for supper and I'm STARVING, I'm pulling off my gloves when Papagena comes in the dressing room and tells me that she just saw Fiona Shaw in the hallway. Fiona recently directed Riders to the Sea at ENO so I'm not especially surprised she's around. I scrub off most of my makeup, throw on my normal clothes, and I hear my darling Kate out in the hallway and I want to get her before she runs off so we can talk about where to go for drinks, and there she is. Fiona Shaw is standing in the hallway between our dressing rooms. Kate introduces me to her, and she says, "So nice to meet you - you were brilliant! Didn't you hear the audience roaring for you?" And just like that, it all melts away. The fear and the anxiety and the pain of reading what all of those critics wrote, the insults, the illness, it's all gone, because this amazing actress of stage and screen is telling me that I did a good job, and she should know because she's in the business of stage and screen, not the business of deconstructing it. I'm absolutely overwhelmed and I don't think my feet touched the ground for the rest of the night. I met up with Stephen and we had quick drink at the pub with the cast and crew before heading to Brown's for dinner, where I indulged and had the most delicious prawn and chorizo pasta thingie that was out of this world.
I think I got home from all this excitement about 13 hours ago and I'm still tingling. The critics can say what they will - the house was still full, the audience was still roaring, and Fiona Shaw thinks I'm brilliant. I love my job.
