Illustration by Jillian Tamaki.
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Day 1
I just don’t know how I feel about starting my day at 9 a.m. in my accountant’s office, finding out exactly how much I owe the government in taxes. Bless his heart, he’s a really nice guy and he broke it to me gently — but he could have been speaking a foreign language for all I understand about GST and CPP. Being an adult is hard — especially a self-employed one. But I remind myself that no one has ever died by paying their taxes so I just better get on with it. And let’s be honest, there are some other things that should be occupying my brain today…
Opening Week has arrived. Today is Monday, the gala opening of the 2005 Stratford Festival Season, and more specifically, the opening of The Tempest — one of two Shakespeare productions I am appearing in this week. As I put the coffee on, I make a mental list of what I need to do today. By some wonderful miracle I have the whole day off until I head to the theatre for my call tonight. I know I should take advantage of this time, because it’s rare around here, so the day fills itself with chores, a debate about what to wear to the reception tonight — with a mild panic about earrings — writing Opening Night cards and a nap.
At 5:30 I head to the theatre. Before each performance, a 30-minute voice warm-up is scheduled for the actors. I love these warm-ups and attend them religiously. It’s my time to get centered and “into” my body in preparation for the show. Tonight, warm-up is being led by Janine Pearson, the Head of Voice here at the festival. Her voice is meditative and seems to soothe the nervous jitters we can all feel in the room. After a series of exercises, I leave in a state of readiness and focus — only to go down two flights of stairs where backstage is exploding with opening-night energy. Flowers and cards and presents are spilling off everyone’s dressing room tables, and cast and crew alike are buzzing around every corner. It’s fabulous.
At the five-minute call I hear the trumpet fanfare — it’s a long-standing tradition that began in the festival’s inaugural year, and a sort of comfort food for me. I feel butterflies in my belly as I watch William Hutt enter from up stage center greeted by a long round of applause. Off we go.
Half an hour into the show, I go to my second warm-up. The three goddesses, of which I am one, sing a trio in Act IV and we have made it a habit to check in with each other and to sing a bit before our scene. I also am making a small pronunciation adjustment in my line of text, and have had strict orders to run it at least ten times so I don’t panic when I get out there. Nerves have a mind of their own, and I’m not going to let them boss me around tonight.
The show sounds good, and the audience seems warm and receptive for an opening night crowd — which can tend to be quiet. We have a sound system backstage that allows us to listen to what’s happening on stage. I don’t make my entrance as Juno the goddess of marriage until after the interval, and since it takes me forever to put on my make-up and my enormous and gorgeous costume, I spend most of the evening listening to my fellow cast members. When Bill begins the famous Prospero speech (“Ye elves…”) you can feel the magic in the building.
Bill is a Canadian theatre legend and this production of The Tempest will be his farewell performance. He is a master, and he will be missed. You can feel how much he is loved at the curtain call especially. Tonight, all 1,600 hundred people rose to their feet in unison as a sort of human wave as he entered to take his bow. The feeling and energy of that is impossible to describe. It’s quite something.
The reception after the show is a bit of a blur, and as I walk home, I decide that tonight went well. A good start to what I hope will be a good week. I fall into bed, the early-morning meeting with my accountant a distant memory…
