Watching other directors work

I love watching other directors work. I have assistant-directed eight times, am scheduled for a ninth, and know who I'd like for my tenth.

Allison Narver, a Yale School of Drama grad and head of the Empty Space Theatre here in town, has some excellent perceptions on directing. One is, "You assist until suddenly you're done assisting. It's time for you to be in the other chair, and everyone knows it."

That happened for me after my last opera. I knew because I was spending most of my time observing the artistic director, not the director.

Nonetheless, I still love watching other directors work. I feel like god has brought it all together -- the room, the designers, director, gifted actors, a great text, the whole theatre, sometimes an entire country and language -- just for me. (Along with all the other perfectly meshing divine purposes, of course.) "Pssst, Rach," hisses god, "Check THIS." I feel like he's gone back in time; had Chekhov be born, and Mozart write his operas; grown all the actors and designers their whole rich lives; sent them to great theatre schools; seasoned them through many rehearsal processes -- until they're ripe and ready. For me.

I open my eyes, gaze softly around the rehearsal room, and think -- "Thank you."

Even beginning directors are fascinating. They think and work differently than I do, and the problem is infinitely rich. It's the same with painters -- I like watching beginners as much as the pros. Seeing a new creation emerge never loses its awe.

Great directors I can watch again and again. What they're good at, they're very good at. Joseph Lavy's rehearsal rooms are great pools of silence and time. Bart Sher's are alive, energetic, zinged with sharp psychological insight. Eugenio Barba's are like a confluence of deep rivers; a weather system. Robyn Hunt's are shimmeringly clean. Vanessa de Wolf's are warm and yet quite focussed; she works with gaze in her dancers a lot, and often begins from costume improvisation.

I love rehearsal -- its complex unfolding, organic fertility, sacredness. Although it is hard to sit still all that time, the spiritual nourishment is fantastic.

Observing another director's rehearsal process transforms me as profoundly as directing a play of my own.

You know what I'd really like? To be Artist In Residence during rehearsal. While they are making a play, I'd be sitting at my table in the corner, making a painting -- or book, or poems; whatever creation is flowing out of me, based on the actors, the text, the rehearsal room. Yeahhhhh. Mmm.