As a writer, I fly solo. That’s kinda the name of the game. The decisions made are mine and mine alone. It’s me and the keyboard, my imagination, and whatever command of language I happen to have at the time. If I want to adjust point of view, setting, character, or anything else, I can do it and not have to answer to anyone.
Luckily, no one was injured in the riot rehearsal process of Marat/Sade. (That’s the short title. The long title is The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade. It’s by Pete Weiss.)
Not to give anything away — but I totally am — the inmates stage a freakin’ riot at the end of the play. In case you were curious, staging that kind of thing a very aerobic activity. Especially when you have to do it six times.
To help you imagine it:
Picture an aerobics floor.
Picture some aerobic dancers on the floor.
Picture them doing something synchronized in a circle in the middle of the floor.
Picture the aerobics instructor leading them in an orderly fashion. The aerobicizers do something cool and orderly. They do stuff like jazz hands and kickboxing moves.
It’s not at all like that.
Oh, there’s plenty of kickboxing moves. And there’s spinning. There’s clapping. There’s even some jumping jacks to go along with the skipping. You could even say there’s some step aerobics, because a few people go up some stairs and a few people go down some stairs.
None of it, however, is synchronized. There’s a significant danger of running into other people. There’s a distinct possibility that at a given moment you will step on someone’s toes, or pull their hair, or bump into them in some fashion.
And that’s just the visual elements.
Did I mention there’s singing? Well, there is. And the singing turns into screaming. A crap ton of screaming.
Yes. Tonight there was a lot of running. Tonight there was a lot of screaming.
(My throat’s a little sore.)