The cast of the Rogue’s opening show is solidly into rehearsal now. Today’s gathering at our rehearsal hall, affectionately known as ‘the clubhouse,’ marks the end of our third week.
The Clubhouse is an echoing industrial space located between a humming electrical transfer station and the railroad tracks. When the trains howl their approach to the street crossing with their diesel horns all rehearsal, particularly work on the show’s music, stops.
There’s a corny old saying that there are no small parts, only small actors. It’s particularly true at the Rogue since performers wander on stage even as the audience enters…and never leave.
You don’t enter at the opening of the first act with some classic line like, “Oh, oh, oh…Eight o’clock and the master not up!” and then exit to the green room for twenty minutes. You’re always there, being there, even if you have no lines.
“Being there” may mean being part of a tableau vivant, singing Debussy choral music, miming, or all three at once. I find it damned near impossible to leer like a satyr and sing prettily at the same time.
The music sounds great and as an old Barbershop singer I can tell you I’d like to get the cast together in a small room where we could really hear the chords ring. Singing in this show has been about as much fun as I’ve had in a long time.
Visit the Rogue here.