Theatre du Soleil: Stage de Fevrier 2009
So for someone who is supposed to be growing up and getting a sensible job it looks suspiciously like I am still smitten with the bug. But perhaps the least said eh... Suffice to say that I received a letter from the Theatre du Soleil on Xmas eve when I got back from a gorgeous few days in the countryside near Leeds. It invited me to come and interview/audition for a two week stage in February. I had a little while of wondering, but very quickly knew that it was something that I would never forgive myself if I didn't go for.
Going for it involved coming to Paris twice, firstly for an interview and then again for an audition and very happily I was excepted and am in the middle of the stage.
Though perhaps masterclass would be a better description. It is immense. There are 420 people altogether, 110+ of whom are auditors and only allowed to watch and the other 300 like me. I think about 1000 people applied. The last of these stages was six years ago, and of course it is an extraordinary company.
When I describe it to my boyfriend he says it sounds like a cult, and it does sometimes feel rather like a cult. There are lots of very strict rules, about what you wear (no green - bad luck), turning up on time, not walking on the stage (you have to go around it). Most of them are common sense. But there's a fierce austerity about how they are enforced. Each day a list goes up for people to volunteer themselves to help clean up. I did the toilets on the first day to get it out of the way and made friends with the lovely P***.
For some reason I am finding it completely exhausting. Probably because it largely entails sitting on a hard bench for hours on end listening to french. Or concentrating on what's going on on stage. Every day last week I was exhausted and couldn't wait to fall into bed.
I think back fondly to my class of 33 at Lecoq and am amused by how we grumbled about it being too big. And if the teachers at Lecoq could be harsh they were kindergarden compared to Madame Mnouchkine. Whoa. There's no limit to the length of her tongue, though she tends to be searingly accurate. And it's not only she who is amazing, but her company of actors, especially the amazing Lucio who is gobsmackingly lithe and with an endlessly brilliant imagination.
We started on Monday by coming up with ideas for an improvisation based on the terror of the stage. She worked with different groups. Mine she hated and stopped very quickly, scolded sharply and sent us back to the benches. Then we moved onto chorus work to music led by the choreyfee, almost always a member of the company, though occasionally someone from the stagieres with vareying success. She was very insistent that it shouldn't be dance. It was a sort of rhythmic improvisation which could (and did) go off onto all sorts of wild paths and ended up with more than one chorus on stage. Everyone had a go at doing that, so it took about 3 days to do.
We ended with the theme - dictators - to be used in it's widest possible sense. We got into groups again and came up with an idea to improvise. It needs the scenario, the people and their etat, the state they're in.
I am finding it amazing and agonizing, frustrating, fantastic and above all exhausting. I am scared and excited about the coming week.
Going for it involved coming to Paris twice, firstly for an interview and then again for an audition and very happily I was excepted and am in the middle of the stage.
Though perhaps masterclass would be a better description. It is immense. There are 420 people altogether, 110+ of whom are auditors and only allowed to watch and the other 300 like me. I think about 1000 people applied. The last of these stages was six years ago, and of course it is an extraordinary company.
When I describe it to my boyfriend he says it sounds like a cult, and it does sometimes feel rather like a cult. There are lots of very strict rules, about what you wear (no green - bad luck), turning up on time, not walking on the stage (you have to go around it). Most of them are common sense. But there's a fierce austerity about how they are enforced. Each day a list goes up for people to volunteer themselves to help clean up. I did the toilets on the first day to get it out of the way and made friends with the lovely P***.
For some reason I am finding it completely exhausting. Probably because it largely entails sitting on a hard bench for hours on end listening to french. Or concentrating on what's going on on stage. Every day last week I was exhausted and couldn't wait to fall into bed.
I think back fondly to my class of 33 at Lecoq and am amused by how we grumbled about it being too big. And if the teachers at Lecoq could be harsh they were kindergarden compared to Madame Mnouchkine. Whoa. There's no limit to the length of her tongue, though she tends to be searingly accurate. And it's not only she who is amazing, but her company of actors, especially the amazing Lucio who is gobsmackingly lithe and with an endlessly brilliant imagination.
We started on Monday by coming up with ideas for an improvisation based on the terror of the stage. She worked with different groups. Mine she hated and stopped very quickly, scolded sharply and sent us back to the benches. Then we moved onto chorus work to music led by the choreyfee, almost always a member of the company, though occasionally someone from the stagieres with vareying success. She was very insistent that it shouldn't be dance. It was a sort of rhythmic improvisation which could (and did) go off onto all sorts of wild paths and ended up with more than one chorus on stage. Everyone had a go at doing that, so it took about 3 days to do.
We ended with the theme - dictators - to be used in it's widest possible sense. We got into groups again and came up with an idea to improvise. It needs the scenario, the people and their etat, the state they're in.
I am finding it amazing and agonizing, frustrating, fantastic and above all exhausting. I am scared and excited about the coming week.
posted by lecoqblogger at 8:08 pm
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