| Barrymore Begins |
[Apr. 14th, 2008|05:07 pm] |
Victor and I had a boozy evening on the town last Wednesday night, which ended with an impromptu reading of BARRYMORE, while completely faced, on my subway ride back to Brooklyn. But considering my character’s immortal indulgences, the whole evening can be handily written-off as good research—and taken in that light, I feel very responsible for having been so irresponsible.
Plus, it’s nostalgic.
* * *
Phill has a way of transforming our apartment into a magician’s workshop in preparation for our productions, and BARRYMORE is no different: The living room has already become a Victorian rehearsal hall, and this time, the set of the play comes complete with a working phonograph, on which Phill’s having me casually play the incidental music for the show, as though Barrymore is simply putting on music for pleasure during the course of his reminiscences.
After going through several vintage jazz albums on Saturday to find appropriate selections for the show, Phill let me try out an as-yet-unplayed vinyl edition of Jason Molina’s LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO as a little bit of R&R. It was haunting, incantational…as ghostly as any of the sounds from those older recordings.
I finally “get” the whole vinyl obsession. It’s theatrical and intimate. It’s a sound that gets into the very woodwork.
* * *
Sunday we shopped for BARRYMORE clothing at Goodwill, and found a pinstripe suit in my size for $20.
This would be serendipitous for anyone, but as I’m 6’5” and intensely superstitious, it has lit a cosmic fire under my ass to do the show proud.
Cross all available fingers, toes. |
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