Summer Rep

One show a night, six days a week plus weekend matinees

During one eight-day period this past July, Jean Brown rehearsed the choreography, songs, and monologues for two shows a total of 11 times; ran through a third show eight times, including two dress rehearsals and a photo call; performed a fourth play three times; spent an hour at her final costume fitting; walked around for a full day in curlers futilely, as it turned out; acted in two opening nights; attended three classes in acting, one in voice, three in dance; skipped one in tap; and, finally, celebrated until dawn at two cast parties.

Jean Brown is neither a professional actress nor some barnstorming summer-stock player. She is, rather, a member of the class of 1981 and a participant in one of the more extraordinary of the College's intensive one-term programs — the Dartmouth Players Repertory Company. Each summer the rehearsal rooms, shops, dressing rooms, stages, and staff of Hopkins Center become the classrooms and faculty for a select group of aspiring thespians.

PREPARATIONS for Summer Rep begin the previous winter. Visiting directors are lined up, plays are selected, the program announced, and auditions for the company held. The 1979 major productions are to be Shakespeare's The Winter'sTale, directed by Eric Christmas; Molière's Tartuffe, directed by Errol Hill; and Eugene O'Neill's The Hairy Ape, directed by Michael Rutenberg. (Hill is a professor of drama at Dartmouth; Christmas and Rutenberg are visiting directors.) A new matinee series in the downstairs Bentley Theater will feature student-directed productions of modern works.

Artistic director of this year's company, Errol Hill describes the repertory program as "a sort of capping-off of a student's career at Dartmouth. We like to think of the Rep as a unique opportunity to extend themselves, to put into practice all they have learned here. We recruit a special student company which is completely devoted to the study of theater for the term. The students really have to prove that they are interested and willing to work very hard. Their rehearsals begin at nine o'clock in the morning for the downstairs shows, or they may be assigned to the scene shop or the costume shop or to hang lights. Their class [voice and speech, given by Eric Christmas and equity actress Marcy Mattox] is from 10:00 until 12:00 four days a week. Six days a week they are rehearsing from 1:30 to 5:30 and 7:00 to 11:00."

Long before the students even think but the extent of their summer commitments, a "kind of cooperative creative enterprise" has already begun between Bernie Vyzga, the set designer; John Sullivan, the costume designer; Steve Woody, the lighting designer; and the three directors. By late March, the concept of how each production should feel and look is under discussion, and basic ideas as to the style, architecture, and color of each production are established.

Hill decided to stage Tartuffe in a 17th-century Flanders setting much like a Dutch genre painting. For The Winter's Tale, the designers will use color and architecture to help define the differences between the two locales, Sicilia and Bohemia. "Within Sicilia the design is angular and linear, to reflect the controlled society," explains Vyzga, "while in Bohemia, things are loose, more natural." This general feeling is further accentuated by the use of color — cool and regal tones in Sicilia; warm, earthy browns and oranges in Bohemia. For The Hairy Ape, it is quickly established that there should be no color — only steel grays — with the exception of the hellish stokehole, reminiscent of Dante's Inferno.

Sullivan and Vyzga will spend the next two months looking into the time and locale of each show, drawing rough sketches, exchanging ideas with the directors and each other, making refinements, and developing more detail. Vyzga must create sets long on mobility, strength, and ease of storing. Sullivan must choose costume fabrics of a texture, quality, and color which will accentuate those attributes of each character that the director wishes to highlight. By late May, final color renderings of the costumes with fabric swatches and detailed draftings of the set are ready.

In mid-June, the company arrives, Dartmouth undergraduates, students from other colleges, plus a few professionals. Auditions take three days, then roles are cast. Suddenly, the productions move away from renderings, draftings, and the minds of directors into set construction and painting, costume fashioning and fitting, scene rehearsals and character development. The Winter's Tale will open in four weeks, Tartuffe one week later, and The Hairy Ape two weeks after that. The day-to-day progression of all this activity is in the hands of production manager Margaret Stuart Ramsay.

If the directors are the hubs around which each production turns, then Peg Ramsay is the axle which holds them all together. For seven years, she has returned to Dartmouth, most recently from St. Louis' Hilton Theater, to production- manage, stage-manage and occasionally act with Summer Rep. Ramsay speaks of her annual stint at the College with great fondness. "Coming back to a college where there are potential talents in training gets you back in touch with why you did it in the first place. I love watching them learn. I'm in awe of them, of their youth. They haven't learned yet to be uncomfortable in Shakespeare and Moliere."

As production manager, Ramsay makes certain that everyone knows where to be and when. She schedules rehearsals, costume fittings, shop assignments, hair appointments, and classes — all with the aid of the call board, a large bulletin board that each member of the company checks at least once a day. "You have to get a high out of scheduling an impossible day and having it go without a hitch," she says.

Most mornings, Ramsay can be found in her office, which serves as a combination control tower-cafe-communications bureau-crisis center. During any given hour, she will smoke half a pack of cigarettes, check her watch six times, and deal with at least a half-dozen people. Aurore Dionne, costumier, is searching for actress Barbara Jones — "try Bartlett"; sound technician Mike Woody announces that a tape will be ready for rehearsal that night — "great"; student director Tim Prager '79 storms in on opening day of his play announcing, "The dimmer board's broken" — "dammit!" Moments later, lights on.

Ramsay's afternoons and evenings are spent in rehearsal with the script, jotting down technical changes and rehearsal notes which she will later pass on to the appropriate technician, designer, or actor.

FOR the students, the eight daily hours of rehearsal seem like classes, only more demanding. Company member Gail Jaffe compares the two: "You can go to a class and if you feel bored and tired, you can just sit there and not take notes or you don't even have to show up; if you don't show up at rehearsal, your head is on the slaughter board." Bob Southworth '81 adds, "I'm on stage, even in rehearsal, and they're looking for my reactions in every move I make. That's hard, especially for a couple of hours."

For director Michael Rutenberg it is "here in the rehearsal process that the understanding of the play happens. You've got to consider who is going to play the various roles and their personalities." In his rehearsals, Rutenberg stresses developing the right activity within each scene so that the actors are relaxed and the scene works. "If the activity is correct, the actors practically stage the thing themselves. The activity forces patterns of movement and behavior so the director can begin to hone it and polish it and perfect it through selection and modification. He then begins dealing in terms of composition, rhythms, levels — the pictorial dramatization."

Like most directors, Rutenberg will help his actors get a feel for their characters through both physical and mental exercises. For The Hairy Ape, Barbara Ann Jones, who plays Mildred, a wealthy young woman concerned with the plight of the lower classes, was directed to write a letter to a friend, in character, describing the horror of seeing the stokehole. The stokers have been told to lift weights regularly to develop both their bodies and the camaraderie of working together physically. Although a director can assist actors to understand their roles better, each actor must work independently to create the character.

The pivotal role of Yank in The HairyApe is played by Mark Lotito '81. Over the rehearsal period he must develop a thorough understanding of both Yank's character and his role in the play. Lotito comments, "It's a very heavy show from the acting standpoint. Eventually, it leads to my suicide. Every scene has to show what's going on in my mind." In early July, he reflects on Yank and how he is preparing himself. "Yank — he's not stupid; he's very intelligent. He's just ignorant, and he gets frustrated because he can't express himself. He's a nice guy, but he's savage and he's primitive and he needs to be king of his world. ... I try to incorporate a lot of gorilla-like qualities. I start off as a gorilla, and I evolve into a human being. Then I'm Yank and I can reason. ... You work on those qualities, then you go to the script and you start using those words and you're ready for rehearsal. You build each day; you add more stuff and hopefully you're ready on opening night. I've got a long way to go. I am still too nice. He would really murder someone if they 'did him wrong.' I'm not at that point yet."

Ten days later, the cast of The HairyApe is rehearsing the prison scene. The eerie sound of a harmonica whines sporadically from beneath a bunk bed. Yank is repeatedly hassled by catcalls. Finally, Lotito looks up at Rutenberg with anger in his voice, demanding, "Is he going to play that harmonica now?" Rutenberg responds sharply, "I don't know." A moment later, he adds, "This is good. They should be bugging you — you're serious and they're nuts." Lotito is getting there.

The productions and frenzy build until all of a sudden The Winter's Tale is into technical and dress rehearsals. Sets, props, costumes, and lights seem to appear magically out of nowhere. "It's really thrilling," exclaims actor Paul Sandresky '81. "All these people have been working and you don't see any of the scenes or the costumes, and then suddenly there they are at dress rehearsal and it's just so exciting you don't know what to do."

Opening night! For the actors it is "just like Christmas," with gifts, cards, and flowers being passed around even more freely than the "comps," or complimentary tickets. Company members not involved in the performance don their theater-going best and join Hopkins Center bigwigs, friends, and theater aficionados to make an audience. I've never seen an opening night fail," says Southworth. "Everybody's excited, you've got so much energy, everything's played to the hilt, and there are 130 comps, which means friends galore."

Opening ends, applause, the country folk of Sicilia and Bohemia stroll away waving their appreciation, props are stored, the stage cleaned, make-up removed, and the traditional opening-night celebration begins — partying, dancing, and drinking until the wee hours.

The following morning's class is cancelled, but there is frantic activity in the costume and set shops. Both must be ready for Tartuffe within a few days. "For a normal play," production assistant Esther Cohen '79 muses, "you get all geared up for opening night, then you perform and sleep. With Rep, you've got to start all over again with the same thing next week."

Tartuffe moves rapidly into dress rehearsal. It is an hour before curtain. Six or seven people are constantly crossing the stage. Bernie Vyzga oversees last-minute set changes. A painting is rehung, the swinging of doors is checked. Technical and lighting designer Steve Woody walks across stage yelling dimmer numbers to Marcy Stoevens in the lighting booth — he checks the throw of each light, shouting adjustments to the catwalk. Errol Hill walks across the stage, commenting, "With sets like these, I should be performing myself." He questions whether it will be a problem to pick up a pipe from a certain table, and the pipe is moved. Slowly the designers, the staff of the costume shop, Hill, and a few others drift into seats in the audience. The curtain is lowered and then, at precisely 8:36 p.m., raised on a rehearsal performance of Tartuffe.

Dress rehearsal ends with a curtain call, to no applause, and then photo call begins. Lights are set up while Sullivan and assistants Alison Todd and Denise Alexander hurriedly touch up each actor's make-up, hair, and costume. Two more run-throughs, then another opening night.

With the passing of mid-summer, the Bentley Series opens, and The Hairy Ape moves onto the Center Theater stage. Considerable portions of the well-rehearsed staging are suddenly altered. "Nine-foot platforms are not quite the same as the rehearsal room." Stage manager Esther Cohen explains, "The first day on stage we will run through very slowly, checking sight lines and finding out things like if a prop is on stage right, will the actor have time to get it or does someone need to be there to hand it to him?"

The set is painted, and slowly the look and feel of a ship emerges. Electronic music and lights are added. There's real coal to shovel, real food to eat, and real water to wash with. Dress rehearsal again. Things move slowly until the stokehole scene when someone misses a cue. Rutenberg is angry, yet concerned about the even flow of the rehearsal. "It's going okay," he remarks quickly. One by one, the stokers jump off the stage to catch their only glimpse of the fiery scene.

Another opening, another party, and then two and a half weeks of the Dartmouth Players Summer Repertory Com- pany presenting one show a night, six days a week plus weekend matinees, and mid- week shows in the Bentley. During these weeks, the Players will come as close to experiencing professional theater as is possible at Dartmouth.

Each new performance must be kept fresh and alive for each new audience. As company choreographer and actor Mark Frawley '81 observes, "The show opens in the middle of July, and you are still doing it at the end of August after 14 or 15 performances. You really learn something from that — what kind of energy it takes to get up for a show every night and switch shows alternating nights. It does a real job on your head."

Part of that motivating energy comes from the actor's excitement at further discovery within his or her role. With Summer Rep, Errol Hill points out, the students have an opportunity to present a play over a comparatively long period of time. "That means they can improve and see themselves improving in the role and continue to explore it."

For Tony Weaver 'Bl, who plays King Leontes in The Winter's Tale, and Josefina Bosch, there is the mutual discovery late in the summer that the room in which each scene of Shakespeare's drama takes place has acquired a distinctly different character, although the stage and even the set are exactly the same. The opening scene feels like the king's royal gardens to both actors while the final scene, which is for all practical purposes the same, is clearly Paulina's gallery.

Finally, as most summer students begin to take their exams, the last show of each play is performed. Costumes are washed and stored, props returned to storage, renderings filed in portfolios, lights taken down and returned to the electrical shop, wigs placed on their stands, and sets torn apart.

Within hours of the final cast party, the artifacts of the Rep have been shut away in the storage rooms of Hopkins Center. The impressions of a summer of theater are permanently preserved only in those special places each actor creates, regardless of sets.

Costumier Aurore Dionne gets Jody Awad '81 ready for dress rehearsal of The Hairy Ape. Opposite, the play's director, Michael Rutenberg, and set designer, BernieVyzga (right) explain renderings to actors Len Washko '81 (left) and Peter Morse '80.

Director Errol Hill rehearses Tim Prager '79 and Heather McCartney '81 in Tartuffe.

The Winter's Tale opens: Josefina Bosch '79 and, behind the curtain, Marcy Maddox.

Nancy Wasserman '77, whose nameappears frequently in these pages, is a localfree-ance photographer.